


Bloodstock

by CaraRose



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, As is Kylo's TIE Silencer, Dark side of the horse industry, Equestrain book and movie tropes abound, F/M, Hunter/Jumper AU, Millenium Falcon is a horse, Rating subject to change, Some inspiration from real events and crimes, equestrian AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-03-23 17:21:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 41,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13792491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaraRose/pseuds/CaraRose
Summary: Short summary:The equestrian AU no one asked for ;)Featuring washed up former champion trainer Han Solo, spunky girl from nowhere Rey, champion jumper rider Kylo Ren who works for Snoke's First Order Stables.--------------------------------------Long Summary:Whatever Rey had been expecting when she began hitchhiking her way westward across the United States with an expired visa, no money, and next to nothing to her name, ending up working and riding for former champion horse trainer and rider Han Solo had not been one of them. Yet that's where she's found herself, living and working on Han's farm in rural Minnesota with Han, Han's friend and stablehand Chewie Bacca, and the gruff trainer's six horses.When Han gets himself into more than a little bit of trouble, Rey presses him to bring his old jumper—Millennium Falcon—out of retirement and to let her try to help win the money the man needs. The three travel to Illinois, where the hunter/jumper show world is dominated by First Order Farms, owned by the shady Silas Snoke, and home of champion jumper rider Kylo Ren. Rey soon finds the horse industry is a far darker and more dangerous place than she ever could have expected.





	1. When Rey Met Han

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first modern AU!
> 
> I've been wanting to do an equestrian AU for awhile, one where I could both embrace all the ridiculous equestrian movie tropes while at the same time create a bit of a thriller based using real life events as a template---insurance fraud, scams, intimidation, murder. 
> 
> It should be an interesting ride if I can pull it off. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very heartfelt thanks to both A_Little_Hope and Ali for giving this a beta read so I could feel confident enough to post it you all didn't have to suffer through my awful grammar.

_**** _

_**"I heard a neigh. Oh, such a brisk and melodious neigh it was. My very heart leapt with the sound." - Nathaniel Hawthorne** _

 

 

 

_January 2017_  
_Willmar, Minnesota_

 

Hitchhiking in general was a terrible idea. Hitchhiking around the northern United States in the middle of winter was turning out to be a much, much worse one. Winding up stranded in the middle of nowhere in Minnesota, at night, in a snowstorm, made it high on Rey’s list of terribly bad life choices.

And she had to admit it was a very long list.

Which didn’t change how screwed she was. She was not even remotely dressed for winter, and the snow was only getting heavier. She’d been walking along the shoulder of the highway for miles now, but no one was out driving, not in this mess. And there was nothing on this stretch of highway. How in the bloody hell could there be miles and miles of nothing?

_“British girl found frozen to death on the roadside.”_

Fuck, even her death’s headline would sound pathetic and boring.

Rey kept walking, hoping for a car, hoping for anything. Police, she’d take the police now, even though that would probably get her deported back to the UK. Her visa had expired months ago. She could barely see, the snow was now coming down so hard. And it was blowing hard; the wind went right through her shitty, not nearly suited to this kind of weather, coat. The snow flakes stung her face as they whipped into it.

Just as she reached the point when she was sure she wasn’t going to be able to keep going, that she was going to curl up in a ball in the roadside ditch and hope that she would somehow just hibernate through this without dying or losing any body parts to frostbite, she saw a flash of something red through the white off to the side of the road. A building?

A low barbed-wire fence divided the road easement from the private property next to it. Awkwardly, she scrambled over it, catching the wire on her inner thigh. Her jeans tore… her skin probably did too, but she was too fucking numb to feel it. Swearing under her breath, she headed towards whatever she’d seen, drawing in a relieved breath as the red painted boards began to become clearer. A building, a barn. Probably still cold as fuck inside, but at the least it would be shelter and block the wind.

Putting her hand on one of the rough wood planked walls, she followed her way around the building until she found a door. To her relief, she found it wasn’t locked. It jammed against the snow, and it took all of her strength to wedge it open enough for her to slip inside.

A soft whinny greeted her as she pulled the door closed, cutting off the howling wind outside. Fumbling for her bag, she pulled a small flashlight out of her pocket as soft snorts and rustles met her ears. The light was blindingly bright after being in the dark for so long, and she had to squint and look away until her eyes adjusted.

When she finally was able to look around, she found herself in an old but neatly kept horse barn, eight wood plank stalls with half doors. The wood for the stalls was old, patched in places, chewed rough in others. Still, they were in better shape than anything in Plutt’s yard back home had been, and the stalls were bedded deep with what looked like sawdust or wood shavings.

She walked down the small aisle, and a chestnut head popped over the door, ears forward. Not able to resist, she stopped and reached her hand out to the horse. The last time she’d been around horses was when she was back home working in Plutt’s dismal yard.

Judging from what she could see of this one, these horses probably had a far better lot in life. The chestnut nuzzled her hand, and she noticed a scar running from under his forelock to his small star, and a small piece of his right ear was missing. The injuries had long since healed, but she couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to the poor guy in the past.

Keeping going, she peered at the stalls; six of the eight were housing horses. The seventh appeared to be used for feed and hay storage, the eighth as a tack room.

There was a small alcove between the eighth stall and the wall, a little storage space with a few manure forks and shovels. It would be out of sight—hopefully—if someone came and checked on the horses. She was trespassing, after all, and it would probably be best to wait out the storm here and then be on her way without being seen. Dying from getting shot by someone overreacting to a stranger in their barn wasn’t high on her list of ways to go.

She tossed her bag down and pulled off her wettest layers before looking around for something she could use as a blanket. The body heat of the horses warmed the space, but it was still cold enough to get hypothermia. Spotting a large horse cooler folded neatly on a blanket rack, she went over and grabbed it. It was a nice one, real wool, big enough to probably wrap around herself and bundle up in like a cocoon.

Tucking herself back out of sight, she made a nest with the cooler and burrowed into it. Using her bag as a pillow, she closed her eyes and let out a relieved sigh. It wasn’t great, but it was a hell of a lot better than being out in the storm.

As her exhaustion pulled her to unconsciousness, the only sounds were the faint howling of the wind outside and the soft rustling sound of horses in their stalls.

 

* * *

 

She awoke to a noise that sounded like a man’s voice crossed with a dog’s growl.

Jerking awake, she pulled herself back as a monstrously burly man towered above her, wielding a pitchfork threateningly as he glared down at her with brown eyes that peered out between bushy eyebrows and a thick brown beard. He was yelling at her, and she wasn’t sure if he was speaking a language other than English or if his coarse accent was just so thick she couldn’t make out what he was saying.

At least he wasn’t aiming a gun at her. Though death by pitchfork didn’t sound great either. She raised her hands.“I’m sorry! I was stuck in the storm and needed shelter!”

The man huffed, but took a step back. Turning his head, he shouted out a rough noise that sounded like “Ahn!”

A muffled voice called back, “I’m coming, you overgrown oaf.” There was the sound of approaching footsteps that faltered as they neared. “The hell’s going on, Chewie?”

Whatever Chewie’s answer was, she couldn’t understand a word of it. The other man finally came up next to Chewie, not that she could see much of him under the layers he was wearing. His surprised eyes peered out from between a thick winter hat pulled low on his forehead and a scarf wrapped several times around his face. Pulling the scarf down to reveal a gruff, chiseled face, he narrowed his eyes at her. “The hell you doing in my barn, kid?”

“I’m sorry,” she glanced between Chewie and this other man, “I was caught in the blizzard and needed shelter, so I crashed here for the night. I didn’t touch anything…” Her voice trailed off as she looked down at the cooler still wrapped around most of her. “I mean, other than the cooler. My coat was wet, I was just trying to keep warm.”

The man raised an eyebrow, then glanced at Chewie before looking back at her. “The hell were you doing out in that blizzard? Or in the middle of nofuckwhere Minnesota for that matter?”

She snorted. “I was hitchhiking my way west, and my ride dumped me.”

The man raised his eyebrows, asking why without saying a word.

“I didn’t do anything to him,” she said, irritated. “And I wasn’t _going_ to do anything to him, and that’s why he told me to get out.” Untangling herself from the cooler, she stood up, shaking it out and folding it neatly. “I apologize for using your barn and cooler. I can just be on my way.”

Chewie grumbled something, and the man snorted, “Kid, the snow drifts out there are bigger than you, and the roads are buried. Even if they were clear, your chance of finding a ride out here is next to none.” She frowned, and he looked her up and down. “And you’re not even close to prepared for dealing with this kind of weather… Got a name? I’m Han.” He nodded over to the big man next to him, “And that’s my buddy Chewie.”

She frowned, eying the two of them. “Rey,” she said, before hanging the cooler up and pulling on her mostly dry sweater and coat. “I appreciate your concern, but I can take care of myself.”

Han rolled his eyes, but he and Chewie stepped back to let her pass. As she reached one of the first occupied stalls, Chewie said something quietly, and Han sighed. “Rey, why don’t you come up to the house for breakfast? Got a pot of coffee on. You look like you could use some.”

Rey stopped, folding her arms across her chest and leaning on the half-door to the stall. She was hungry and tired and coffee sounded amazing. But going into strangers’ houses seemed like a bad idea. As she mentally debated, a grey head poked over the stall door, curling over her shoulder and nuzzling her chest. Instinctively, she reached up one arm to scratch gently under the horse’s mane. The other, she held out flat for the horse to nuzzle, searching for a treat and then licking her hand when it didn’t find one.

Han and Chewie shared a look again, and she frowned, wondering what that look was about. They seemed like they were okay, that she could trust them. But then again, she had thought the guy in the pickup she rode with from Wisconsin had been okay too, until he told her she could blow him or get left in “nofuckwhere” as Han had called it.

Sighing, she nodded. “Breakfast?”

One side of Han’s mouth curled upward, and as he walked towards her, she noticed he had a jilting limp to his gait. “Food and coffee. Come on, kid.”

 

* * *

 

When Han opened the door and she stepped outside, her eyes had widened for a moment. The path to the barn had been plowed by a small tractor that was now sitting parked off to the side. A wall of snow was on either side of the plowed path, and as they reached the small, wooden farmhouse, her mind reeled as she took in the drift of snow against the side of it, reaching up to the eaves.

If she’d not found shelter, she wouldn’t have only died out there, but they wouldn’t have found her until a thaw. Getting anywhere was going to be difficult, and Han wasn’t wrong; she didn’t have clothes remotely suited for this sort of weather. Maybe if Han and Chewie were as okay as they seemed, she could get a ride somewhere once the roads were passable.

Chewie had stayed to finish feeding, so it was just her and Han in the small kitchen. He’d shoved a cup of coffee in her hand and told her to sit down at the old wood table. She sipped the coffee and listened as he babbled and fixed scrambled eggs and bacon.

Han was a talker, and he introduced himself as Han Solo, a name that seemed strangely familiar, but she couldn’t place why. Chewie was his long-time friend and stablehand, Čedomir Bacca. “Don’t worry about not understanding him. Took me a decade to figure out what he was sayin’ under that accent,” Han had added with a wink, shoving a plate heaped with eggs and bacon in front of her.

She didn’t need any encouragement to eat. The last week she’d barely eaten at all, and she hadn’t eaten anything in the last twenty-four hours. Han didn’t seem to mind doing all the talking as she shoveled eggs into her face and grunted and nodded here and there.

He talked about the farm, which he’d won a decade ago in a bet. “Got a load of improvements I’d like to do, but she always needs something fixed, so I don’t get to them.” He talked about how much he hated winter and how much Minnesota winters sucked. He talked about Chewie and how he doubted he’d get by if he didn’t have his old friend there to help him out.

Mostly though, he talked about his horses. Most of them, he said, he’d gotten at “Kalona,” which, from context, she thought was maybe a sale or an auction. She didn’t want to be rude and interrupt to ask, plus, anyway, she had a mouthful of bacon. He said he got “Van” there three years ago and had been putting training and miles on him. Last year, he got four more green youngsters, “Prom,” “Bell,” “Ty,” and “Fonzi.”

The chestnut that had greeted her when she first got into the barn last night was Han’s old jumper, an off track thoroughbred that she gathered the old man had had just about forever, from the way he talked about him. “Had him since he was four, and there wasn’t a jump he ever balked at or a course that we couldn’t handle. Never been anything like Falcon and never will be again.”

She was eating a third helping of eggs and froze. Falcon… Falcon… Han Solo and Falcon…

A door slammed, and she jumped, looking up to see Chewie stomping his way to the kitchen, grabbing a plate and piling it with food before joining them at the table.

Han Solo and Millenium Falcon. The two still held the world high jump record. Fifteen years ago, they had dominated the show jumping world and probably would have made it to the Olympics if not for a barn fire that had injured both of them. She stared at the man sitting across from her. “Falcon? Millenium Falcon?”

Chewie looked up from his plate, giving Han a look.

For his part, Han sighed and leaned back as she continued, almost incredulously, “You’re… _that_ Han Solo?”

“I used to be,” Han shrugged, his hazel eyes studying her for a minute. “What about you, kid? What’s your story with horses?”

She blinked. “I… what do you mean?”

“You’re clearly familiar with them. You called the cooler a cooler and not a blanket or something else. And you were as comfortable as could be when Prom said hi. You know horses.”

“Um, my foster father had a livery and yard.” She opted to leave it there and not mention the fact that Plutt took dismal care of his horses and used his yard as a waystation for sending horses to the knackers.

“Huh.” Han looked her up and down. “You ride then?”

She shrugged. “I can stay on, at least.”

“Huh.”

What the hell was “huh” supposed to mean?

Chewie glanced at Han, saying something she couldn’t understand.

He glanced at him. “Yeah, I’m getting to it.” The man turned his attention back to her. “Where were you headed anyway, kid?”

“Why does that matter?”

Han smiled. “It doesn’t, I mostly want to know if you’re in a rush to get there?”

She shook her head, confused. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Here’s the thing, Rey… I’m getting kind of up there in age. Chewie too. So we’ve been talking about how it would be nice to get some help around here.” Han sighed. “Plus, it’s getting harder and harder for me to ride. Especially now with the youngsters. My bad leg acts up, and sometimes I just can’t do it. An extra pair of hands around the farm and an extra pair of legs to sit on the horses would help us a lot.”

“Are you...” She shook her head, stunned. “Are you offering me a job?”

Han looked at her sternly. “Isn’t going to pay much, and I ain’t promising to be nice to you.”

“I—” She felt slightly overwhelmed. Han Solo was asking her to work for him, and not just as a barn hand but as a _rider_? “I mean, I’m good on the ground, but I’m not trained or anything with riding. Just taught myself, really. I don’t think I’d be good—”

“If you’re willing to learn, ain’t afraid, and know how to stay on, that’s enough. I’ll be able to do the rest,” Han said earnestly, before winking at her. “Been awhile since I taught a human instead of a horse, but I’ll remember how eventually.”

Did she really have anything to lose? It wasn’t like she had some place to go. Working her way out west was just for the hell of it after she spent some time on the east coast. Even if she decided she didn’t want to keep on after a few months, she’d have some money in her pocket when she started working her way towards California again.

“Come on, kid. Chewie kind of likes you.”

She snorted. “Okay. I can help, at least for awhile.”

Chewie let out a celebratory howl that may or may not have been words, and Han grinned.

 

* * *

 

_Bartlett, Illinois_

 

The flames seemed to dance against the white of the snow as they spread, starting slowly at first, almost tentatively, as they engulfed the stables. That slow spread wouldn’t last long. Horse stables were amazingly combustible, filled with wood shavings, or straw and hay, and lots of wood. Once the fire caught, truly caught, it would become an inferno faster than anyone could stop it.

Sitting in his truck a distance away, window down to the winter cold, cigarette hanging from his mouth, he watched, waiting until it reached the stage of no return, and he could be sure all evidence of the accelerant and his own meddling would be erased by the heat of the fire. This wasn’t his first, and he knew how to be careful. You didn’t leave traces. The fire’s cause would be a mystery, even as the owner knew better. They would know to give Mr. Snoke his space and respect in the future.

From the burning barn, the first horse screamed. He took a drag on his cigarette. The flames were spreading faster now, and the winter wind aided them, whipping them into a frenzy. Stubbing out the cigarette, he watched for a few more seconds, satisfied.

Picking up his phone, he scrolled through his contacts before pressing his thumb down on Hux. There was silence when the other side picked up.

“Job’s done,” he said, and hung up the call.

Time to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please feed me comments. Pretty please?


	2. Baby Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It hadn’t taken much observation to understand why Han called these local saddle club shows a clusterfuck. The grounds were a bit of a disorganized mess, as was the show itself. Dozens of trailers were clustered together—people who, like them, had trailered in for the show. Horses were of all shapes, sizes, and condition. There was a fat, shiny, clearly well-cared-for pair tied to one trailer, while the next one had ribby, dull coated god-only-knew-whats that looked put together by committee. 
> 
> Most surprising was the number of horses that were dirty or poorly groomed. It seemed straightforward to her that if you were going to go before a judge, you might just want to curry the mud off its rump beforehand. 
> 
> She squinted down at the show bill, looking up as Han came over. “What, exactly, is Open Walk/Trot?”
> 
> “I’m pretty sure you walk and trot,” Han answered wryly. “And I’m pretty sure you’re going to be a mix of people riding english and western in that one. It should be an epic shitshow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was already written and was just needing editing, so please don't expect anywhere near this speed of updates going forward.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy, we finally get to meet Kylo at the end of this chapter.

**_“A horse can lend its rider the speed and strength he or she lacks, but the rider who is wise remembers it is no more than a loan”. ~Pam Brown_ **

 

_May 2017_  
_Willmar, Minnesota_

“What part of ‘straight’ is so hard to understand? Push her to the right!”

Rey took a deep breath and half halted, pressing her right leg against the grey mare’s side and making her sidepass over till they reached the rail. Prom took great affront at this whole process, throwing her head several times and pinning her ears as she sidestepped over.

“Good,” Han’s gruff voice called from behind her. “Turn right, pick up your canter, and come to that X again. Hold your left leg and hold her straight. It’s called a straight line halt for a reason.”

Promise threw her head up as she asked for the canter, and she held her contact slightly, pushing the horse into the bit. They came around again, and the mare’s ears perked forward as she saw the jump, trying to speed up ever so slightly. Half halting, Rey kept their pace the same, riding to the base of the foot-high crossrail.

Prom treated it like it was three feet high, over jumping it dramatically. Rey was ready this time when the mare tried to drop her left shoulder and veer left. Holding herself in the center of the saddle and using her left leg as a wall, she forced the horse to stay straight as she rode into a halt at the rail.

“That was better. Let’s call it enough for her today.”

She let the reins drop to the buckle as she walked the horse over to Han, who pulled a peppermint out of his pocket, offering it to the mare as he looked up at her. “Straightness is going to be key for her changes. She’s got a fairly natural lead change, so I don’t think it’s going to be hard to teach her, but straightness and impulsion, those are going to be the keywords to remember. Once she figures that out, she’s going to be a nice little hunter.”

“If she keeps being a drama queen about crossrails and jumping them like they're three foot walls, she won't.”

Hunters were something she was still wrapping her mind around. She knew of show hunters and working hunters in the UK, but only passingly. American show hunters weren’t entirely the same thing, but similar. It was judged on how well the horse’s form and way of going would be suited to fox hunts, which was almost amusing, since most of them would be entirely unsuited to the field if someone actually brought them to the real thing.

The last few months had been a whirlwind of intense training, more for her than the horses, learning Han’s methods and relearning how to do correct the things she'd taught herself that were wrong. She could confidently navigate Van over a 1 meter hunter course. She’d taken Falcon over 1.1 meters, which might have been the highlight of her dismal life to this point.

Between his gawky conformation and odd white patches in his coat—places that had been scarred by burns from the barn fire that had ended his and Han’s career—Falcon was far from what you'd expect a horse that nearly made it to the Olympics to look like, but oh, could he ever jump. Now in his twenties, the old horse hadn’t lost any of his ability. She bet he could go back into the Grand Prix ring now and wipe the floor with the fancier horses.

Han didn't seem concerned. “She’ll even out with experience. Actually, on that note…” He looked up at Rey thoughtfully. “There's a local saddle club show next week at a place about twenty minutes from here. Those things are clusterfucks, but they do have some jumper classes. Be good experience for Prom and Bell to do some flat classes and have to deal with a crowd in the ring. Fonzi can do one of the low jumpers.” Pausing, Han raised an eyebrow. “Good for you too, since you've never showed. Do a few of these, and maybe come fall we could go to a real show. There’s a big one in Saint Paul that’d be a good option.”

“You think we’re ready to show?” she asked skeptically. The thought of being judged seemed slightly overwhelming.

“No,” Han chuckled warmly. “That’s why you, all of you, need to do a few of these. These saddle club things hardly count as shows. Think of it as a practice show. It’s five dollars a class and damned if I know what two thirds of the flat classes are judged on. But it’s a reasonable facsimile for desensitizing you all.”

She nodded, still feeling a little nervous as she dismounted. “Okay, I guess…” she answered, giving Prom a pat before looking back up at Han. “What’s the highest jumper class?”

“Probably 3’6 or 3’9… Fonzi’s going 2’6 tops, though.”

“Can we bring Falcon?” she asked, and Han blinked in surprise. Flushing, she spoke in a hurry. “I mean, you know, it would be good experience for me, wouldn’t it? Nobody needs to know who he really is.”

Han looked amused. “It’s not like there’s anything that says you can’t take an ex-Grand Prix horse in lower jumpers. Fine, we can take the old man. He’ll have a field day with it.”

She grinned, and Han shook his head, still amused, and limped his way back to the barn.

 

* * *

 

Chewie cooked dinner that night, and Han was nowhere to be found.

“He went out again?” she asked, sighing as she sank down into one of the old wood chairs. Chewie gave her a gruff look, and she could tell he was annoyed, maybe a little worried. She couldn’t blame him.

A few weeks ago, he’d had to drive thirty miles to bail Han out for disorderly conduct after a night out drinking a town over.

She was already resigning herself to tomorrow being a wash day on training. Han would probably be sleeping off a hangover, and she and Chewie would deal with taking care of the horses.

Han was a good person, a kind man, at least if you could take some good natured jibes and the occasional biting sarcasm. But she’d learned over the last few months that the man had his vices. Drinking too much, getting into fights, gambling. From what she could gather from Chewie, after he repeated it himself a few times and she could understand him, these were nothing new. Han had a long history of getting himself into trouble.

Chewie set a bowl of beef stew in front of her.

She sighed as she picked up her spoon, shovelling some into her mouth and groaning in approval. The three of them had taken to alternating who cooked, and Chewie was by far the best cook among them. It wasn’t entirely fair the man had to deal with her poor culinary attempts and Han’s okay but basic offerings when he made things that were so delicious.

The big man didn’t seem to mind. He grinned at her reaction before sitting down. Picking up his own spoon, he sighed and said… something.

“Sorry?” She was getting better at understanding him, but it often took a couple tries.

He repeated it, then again. The fourth time, she was pretty sure he was saying, “He said he’d stay out of trouble.”

She gave a wry smile. “Do you believe that?”

Chewie didn’t respond, at least not with words. His contemptuous snort communicated his answer pretty clearly.

Han didn’t really know how to to stay out of trouble.

 

* * *

 

She sat on a bale of hay, legs outstretched, squinting through the dusty surroundings. The horses were tied to the trailer, their coats gleaming in the morning sun. Chewie had outdone himself to make them spotless, manes braided.

It hadn’t taken much observation to understand why Han called these local saddle club shows a clusterfuck. The grounds were a bit of a disorganized mess, as was the show itself. Dozens of trailers were clustered together—people who, like them, had trailered in for the show. Horses were of all shapes, sizes, and condition. There was a fat, shiny, clearly well-cared-for pair tied to one trailer, while the next one had ribby, dull coated god-only-knew-whats that looked put together by committee.

Most surprising was the number of horses that were dirty or poorly groomed. It seemed straightforward to her that if you were going to go before a judge, you might just want to curry the mud off its rump beforehand.

She squinted down at the show bill, looking up as Han came over. “What, exactly, is Open Walk/Trot?”

“I’m pretty sure you walk and trot,” Han answered wryly. “And I’m pretty sure you’re going to be a mix of people riding english and western in that one. It should be an epic shitshow.”

“What is it judged on?”

“No fucking clue,” he said, opening the door to the small tackroom built into the trailer. “It doesn’t really matter. We’re not trying to win, we just want to get them used to riding in a group like they will in a hack class.”

Shaking her head, she looked down the show bill. Han had marked which horses were entered in which classes. Promise was in Open Walk/Trot and Junior English Pleasure, Bell was in Junior Walk/Trot/Canter and Open English Pleasure. Van was in Open Walk/Trot/Canter. Ty was in English Equitation. Fonzi was in a Jumpers 2’6 class, and Falcon was in the 3’6-3’9 jumpers.

There were a good deal of classes in between, halter, western pleasure, some western speed events before the jumpers. All in one ring and with one judge. It was going to be a long day.

 

* * *

 

“Red ribbon in the tail means the same here as back home?”

“If it means keep your fucking distance or get nailed in the UK too, then yeah,” Han rumbled.

She’d seen at least five with ribbons among the twenty-something horses and ponies clustered around the ring. It was a warning that the horse would kick if you got too close… which was a bit worrisome, because it was going to be really crowded in that ring.

Prom threw her head up and pinned her ears as a fat quarter horse in western tack shuffled by her.

“Drama queen,” Rey muttered, tapping the mare with her heel to distract her.

This was going to be interesting, at least. The variety of horses was a little overwhelming. She’d say the majority were in western tack, with a scattered few here and there in all purpose or close contact saddles. At least one she spotted was in a dressage saddle.

“I’d say half of these guys are western pleasure horses… Keep to the inside track, you’ll be running laps around them.”

She nodded, squinting at a fleabitten grey arab in a kind of english tack she didn’t recognize. “What kind of saddle is that?”

“Lane Fox… saddleseat.”

“Saddleseat?”

Han snorted, “Google it when we get home and watch some videos.” He pulled a rag out of his pocket and began to buff her boots. She didn’t have tall boots yet, just paddock boots and a pair of gaiters; still, she’d done her best to polish both till they gleamed and wore her best breeches and a white polo shirt. Her hair was jammed into hairnets and squeezed into her helmet, creating an uncomfortable pressure point on the back of her skull that she was trying to ignore. If Han wasn’t kidding about them going to a rated show at some point this year, she was going to need to get a real set of show clothes. Here, though, she felt almost overdressed.

A girl in a western saddle with an intricate pattern tooled into the leather and silver accents shuffled by on a bay quarter horse. The sun reflected off a blouse that was decked out in heavy bead and gem work.

Rey blinked, taking in the spotless cowboy hat and chaps, the garish blouse, and the tooled cowboy boots.

Okay, so she was almost overdressed compared to _most_ of the class.

The horses were beginning to file into the ring. Han finished buffing her boots and stepped back. “Just do your best to stay out of traffic and keep some distance from the other horses. She’s probably going to be hyped, so watch out she doesn’t get too fast.”

She swallowed nervously, watching the sea of rumps walking into the ring. Why had she agreed to this again? “I’m going to die out there, aren’t I?”

“For Christ’s sake, kid, it’s a walk trot class. I think you’re gonna survive.”

Taking a breath, she looked again, her eyes catching on a boy no more than eight on what she assumed was a pony somewhere underneath all the chestnut hair. Shadowed by the brim of his cowboy hat, his face had a look of pure determination.

Okay, if an eight year old could handle it, she supposed she could too. Turning Prom, she turned and headed for the ring gate.

 

* * *

 

Surrounded by other horses, Promise was equally hyper and pissy. The little grey mare jigged at the walk, veering her hind to the inside while tossing her head. Staying to the inside of the slower horses ambling on the rail, Rey moved her inside leg back and pushed the mare’s quarters back, making her carry herself straight. “Don’t you dare be an asshole,” she muttered nervously. Prom’s ears flicked towards her voice. Suddenly, the mare threw her head up in the air and let out a loud snort as arabian in the tack she had asked about pranced by with a high, exaggerated trot. The rider clearly looking to find some space somewhere in this mess.

There was a haze of dust being kicked up from all the horses now in the ring. She wondered how the judge was even going to see everyone once they started trotting.

Feedback whined through the loudspeaker, and Prom skittered forward, startled. Rey planted her seat deep in the saddle and brought the mare back to a walk, muttering to herself as the announcer spoke.

**“And…. this is our Open Walk/Trot class and the class is now complete. Riders, you are now being judged at the walk.”**

Time felt like it was passing in slow motion, and she had to force herself to take a breath as she pushed Prom forward into the bit, getting the mare to bring her head back down and frame up, or at least stop going around with her nose straight up in the air. After a few indignant head tosses, Prom’s head slowly came down, and the mare began to round up, engaging more from her hind end than dragging herself on her forehand.

For such a little mare, when she picked herself up like this, you could feel the potential power and energy contained within that small frame. Han wasn’t sure what breed she was—probably quarter horse crossed with something was his guess—but if you could get her engaged, she could float over the ground with an elegance that could make someone believe she’d been bred to do this.

**“Riders, please trot your horses.”**

The trot started well. Prom was still framed up and listening, they stuck to the inside track, and seemed to be blurring by the western pleasure horses that seemed to be moving in slow motion—how was that trot remotely pleasurable to ride? The faster moving horses were weaving around them, though, and it was only a matter of time before entropy won out with the different speeds and getting into traffic jams and clusters.

She had to turn sharply as a hyper chestnut gelding that was trying to bolt cut her and Prom off.

The mare took full offense both at the horse that had invaded her space and the sudden, rough jerk on the rein to turn her out of the way. Ears pinned, the mare threw her head, trying to rush forward at the trot.

Trying to find some space back on the inside track was difficult, and she circled again to avoid getting too close to a bay pony with a bright red ribbon tied in her tail. Across the ring, a small paint horse had broken to a walk leading to the horse too close behind nearly crashing into his rump. It quickly turned into a clusterfuck over there as people tried to get around the walking horse without having to break from the trot and nearly crashed into one another.

Finally finding a bit of space, Rey sent Prom straight, but the mare wouldn’t settle, charging around with her head up and trotting way too fast. The grey Arab was circling and cut off the kid on the shaggy chestnut pony.

The kid didn’t seem too rattled, giving the pony a rough kick as it tried to use that as an excuse to break and continuing to trot around.

The loudspeaker crackled, **“Riders, walk. Please walk your horses.”**

Oh, thank God. She fought Prom back to the walk, though the mare continued to try to go back to the trot every few steps.

**“Riders, please reverse the rail…”** The announcer paused, then added, **“And please try to spread out.”**

Shit, they still needed to show the trot the other direction. Prom jigged sideways as Rey turned her in a half circle. The mare was completely amped now, tossing her head and refusing to go straight. She was taking back hard on the reins, trying to keep her down at the walk.

**“Riders, please show the trot. Trot your horses.”**

All she had to do was give with the reins, and Prom took off at a jarring, fast trot. On the plus side, they did stay at the trot and the mare didn’t bolt off into a gallop. Also on the plus side, it was easier to stay out of trouble this time, as everyone was trying to stay out of her way, since they were running laps around the ring. It also didn’t seem to last as long, the judge perhaps trying to cut it off before it devolved into complete insanity.

**“Please walk your horses, all walk.”**

Prom took about half the ring to bring down to the walk, and she kept trying to jump back to the trot every few steps.

**“Riders, please line up in the center of the ring.”**

The line of horses extended across most of the ring.

Rey found herself next to the kid on the shaggy chestnut pony. Thankfully, his pony seemed to care less about the dramatic show of pawing and stomping Prom was putting on next to him to show her displeasure at standing still. All she wanted at this point was for them to call the class so she could get the fuck out of this ring.

**“And in our Open Walk/Trot, first place goes to number 326, Anthony Jesson on Bongo.”**

Next to her, the kid’s face broke out into the biggest smile as someone walked over and handed him a blue ribbon. He leaned down and wrapped his arms around the pony’s neck in a big hug.

She didn’t hear the rest of the placings, which didn’t matter, since there was no way in hell she was going to pin. Instead, she found herself smiling at the pure, unadulterated joy on the little boy’s face.

The pony seemed much less enthralled by his win, standing with his ears back, looking completely bored despite the highly excited boy bouncing on his back.

This might not be a real show to her or Han, but it was real enough for that kid.

 

* * *

 

She got her first placing of the day in Open Walk/Trot/Canter on Van. It had caught her by surprise, even with Van being completely perfect through the entire class, as she heard “Third Place goes to Rey Smith on Eravana,” and she felt a little guilty taking the ribbon. Her revelation after the walk/trot class had stuck with her, and she felt she had no right taking a ribbon away from someone who didn’t look down on these saddle club shows.

In English Equitation, she got pinned first, again catching her off guard since Ty had been a bit of an idiot the entire class. Apparently, something she’d done had impressed the judge.

Jumpers weren’t till the end of the day, so there was a huge gap after English Eq. Prom, Bell, Ty, and Van were done, so she helped Chewie and Han take their braids out and brush them down.

Once they were taken care of, she opted to take a nap in the cab of the truck, which wasn’t exactly comfortable, but she certainly had crashed in worse places. She woke up a few hours later to Chewie barking something at her and shoving a grilled cheese from the concession stand into her hands along with a paper with the courses for the two jumper classes. Sitting in the driver’s seat sideways, munching on her sandwich, she worked on memorizing her courses.

Sitting on Fonzi at the in gate about forty minutes later, she was once again regretting her agreement to do this goddamn show, along with her choices in life that had led her to this particular moment in time. The old, slightly battered jumps were seeming a lot bigger than the two and a half feet or less that they were set to, and the course, which she’d thought was so easy when she was memorizing it, now seemed impossible to remember.

“Red vertical, broken to the green oxer, outside line, roll back to outside oxer...“ she muttered, tracing a finger mentally along the path, as the horse currently on course navigated it. “Combination… finish on the end jump.”

The black gelding stomped in annoyance at the flies and his having to stand still.

Han came over, taking a hold of one of the reins and leading her to the gate as the horse currently in the ring exited. “Take a deep breath, kid. You’re going to pass out before you even take your first jump.”

She took a deep, gasping breath. How long had she been holding it?

“Alright, this is nothing, kid, and it’s just about getting over everything and learning.”

“It doesn’t seem like nothing,” she muttered, and Han rolled his eyes as he sent her and Fonzi into the ring.

**“And this is number 121, Tierfon ridden by Rey Smith.”**

She trotted half a lap around the ring before bringing Fonzi down to a walk.

“I can do this, I can do this,” she muttered, before picking up a canter and heading for the first jump.

Fonzi got excited the moment he caught sight of the first jump, his head coming up and his ears flicking forward to lock onto it like a target. He was a little too forward, and they took it a little long, but cleared it easily. The rest of the course seemed to pass at hyper speed as she fought to keep Fonzi from dragging her to each fence.

They did pretty good till they came to the combination line way too fast. It was a vertical to a vertical to an oxer, all set one stride apart. His stride was already too long, and they barely fit the one stride in between the first two jumps, and they were way too extended for the second one. He took a chipped, awkward step before launching and clipping the front bar of the oxer, knocking it over.

She swore under her breath, sitting down in the saddle and taking back hard to try to make the turn to the end jump. He still swung out too far and they came to it on an angle, jumping it long but still clearing it.

The announcer spoke again as she pulled up, letting out the breath she’d been holding for the entire course as she gave Fonzi a pat. **“Tierfon and Rey finished with four faults and a time of 2:27, putting them into third place.”**

Five of the seven entries had already gone, so the worst they were going to place was fifth. Hell of a lot better than it felt like she deserved.

Han took a hold of Fonzi’s reins as she left the ring, patting the gelding as he led him out of the way. “Let him take control too much there, and you scared the shit out of me in that combo, but all in all, not bad.”

“Now,” Han added as she dismounted, hazel eyes twinkling, “Let’s see what you and Falcon can do.”

Remembering she had to do this again, with the fences bigger and the course tougher, she leaned into Fonzi’s neck and groaned.

 

* * *

 

The sun was setting as she sat on Falcon, staring at the jumps. There had only been three entered in the 3’6-3’9 jumpers, and both had taken rails down. Just her and Falcon were left.

“Those look really big,” she said under her breath.

Han heard her though, and let out a laugh. “Maybe to you, but not to him. You trust this horse, and he’ll get you through this.”

Falcon turned and curled his nose over Han’s shoulder and nuzzled at his cheek.

“Yeah, yeah, you know what’s up, don’t you, old man?” He led them to the in gate, and she took a breath. “Remember to breathe, and just go tell him where to go.”

Rey picked up a trot.

Falcon seemed to have an extra bit of bounce to his step, a happy, energized sort of motion that made her sure he really did know exactly what was going on.

**“This is the final rider for the day, The Falcon with Rey Smith on board.”**

Trying to remember to breathe, she asked him to canter, reaching down with her right hand and rubbing his neck once before picking him up and aiming for the first fence.

Falcon saw it and seemed to lift himself up, carrying himself perfectly to that first vertical and clearing it easily.

It went by in a blur, but every fence he flew over perfectly, every turn he seemed to make effortlessly. And as they galloped to the finish line after clearing the final oxer, she was sure he was puffing himself out, knowing he’d just won.

Which he had; he was the only horse to have gone clear.

As she left the ring, Han caught Falcon with a hand on each side of the bit and planted a kiss on the dot of a snip on his chestnut nose. Grinning, Han looked up at her. “Something else, ain’t he?”

She grinned back. “Yeah, he really is.”

 

* * *

 

_Balmoral Park_  
_Crete, Illinois_

“The course designer is a fucking _cunt_!” Hux snarled.

He glanced down at the redhead, face close to the same color as his hair and a snarl on his face, before looking back to watch Phasma navigating the course in the Grand Prix ring.

They’d just caught a rail on the triple bar, one of the three efforts of the course that seemed to be giving the riders the most trouble. The combination, the triple bar, and the water seemed to be the most problematic. That was where he’d need to watch out.

Silencer pawed, not happy to be standing still. He turned her and walked her in a small circle, putting some distance between him and Hux as the man cursed and sputtered as Finalizer clipped the back bar of an oxer with his hind legs, taking it down for another four faults. He tried to keep his attention on Phasma’s round. There were two more riders before he and Silencer got their chance. So far, no one had gone clear.

It was a little weird being here now. Balmoral had been one of his father’s favorite tracks, and he’d been dragged along often on his father’s excursions, both during the thoroughbred and the harness meets. They’d done an amazing job during the conversion to turn the track into a show grounds, the eleven show rings with the best footing, barns redone with new stalls, even air conditioned pavilions for VIP spectators. Even with so much different, he still recognized it, still remembered being dragged to the backstretch into the sketchy barns as his dad haggled a deal on a horse.

He shook his head. This place was going to be a regular occurrence on the Chicago show scene from now on. He better get the fuck used to it and get over the past.

Phasma exited the ring, looking less than thrilled with her performance.

Hux was even less thrilled, snarling and throwing a string of curses at her as one of the grooms came over and grabbed Finalizer’s reins so Phasma could dismount. The brown gelding shied as he saw Hux coming towards him, the whites of his eyes showing.

He walked Silencer back to the schooling ring, only to make a sharp turn as he saw _her_ standing by the gate.

Dameron was on her old jumper Raddus, the two of them talking before heading towards the in gate of the Grand Prix ring.

Blinking, he realized that Dameron was probably up right before him. It was going to be next to impossible to avoid them when he went in for his round. Fuck.

Once they were gone, he went into the schooling ring, trotting a few laps to warm Silencer back up. The black mare tossed her head, almost aloof in the way she held herself. Picking up a canter, he did a lap of the ring before turning to one of the schooling jumps, set at maybe 4’6. Silencer’s ears pricked forward as she saw the jump, her pace increasing slightly as she pulled against him, wanting to go faster. She cleared it with at least a foot to spare.

After a few more warm up jumps, he walked towards the in gate. Hanging far enough back that she hopefully wouldn't notice him, he watched as she sent Dameron into the ring.

**“This is our second to last rider for the $30,000 Smartpak Grand Prix here at the beautiful new Balmoral Park. Raddus, an eighteen-year-old Oldenburg stallion owned by Leia Organa of New Republic Stables, ridden by Poe Dameron.”**

“Ridden by a fucking cunt,” Hux’s voice spat, and he looked to see the man stepping up next to Silencer, glowering towards the horse and rider now trotting around the ring. Phasma was several steps behind him, as if she was afraid that if she got too close, he might go back to tearing into her for her round.

He didn’t bother looking down at the man while he spoke. “You think everyone’s a cunt, Hux.”

“Because they are, Ren. All of them. And you’re a fucking cunt too if you don’t win this.”

“Thank you for that assessment,” he said dryly.

The whistle sounded, and Dameron picked up his canter and headed Raddus towards the first jump.

His lips curled in contempt as he watched Dameron take the more difficult but faster route to the second jump, getting there at an ugly angle. Fucker was lucky that his horse was such an honest old man and didn’t plant his feet and launch Dameron into the jump for putting him in such a spot.

Hux muttered something and strode over to the fence to watch the round.

Once he was a good distance away, Phasma stepped over, watching Dameron’s round with her arms crossed over her chest. The blond was decked out in full formal attire, just like he was: spotless white breeches, tall boots shined till they gleamed. Both of them wore show coats that were conservative black but had red piping, putting them in the First Order Farm colors.

“Kylo,” she greeted, not bothering to look at him.

“Jeanne,” he answered. They weren’t exactly friends, but they got along well enough that they were on a first name basis.

“The combination and the triple bar are a bitch,” Phasma said, eyes following Dameron’s progress around the ring. It was a good round, clear so far.

He gritted his teeth, hoping the asshole caught a rail, or better yet, came off, preferably into the water.

Phasma shook her head. “Snoke is going to kill us if we get beaten by New Republic.”

Dameron made a sharp inside turn to the water jump. It didn’t give them a lot of time to accelerate, and Raddus didn’t quite clear the twelve foot wide pool, his back hoof landing on the tape.

“Four faults,” he muttered.

“Yeah, but he’s taking this fast.”

He was. If he didn’t pull another rail, Dameron might come out of this on top by being the fastest with four faults. The pair navigated the tricky combination line clear.

He held his breath as they came to the triple bar, a five-foot high, six-foot wide monster that had gotten almost everyone today, willing to whatever God may or may not exist that they’d knock it.

Raddus cleared the jump as if it was the easiest obstacle he’d ever taken. If there was a God, he apparently had just told him to go fuck himself.

Dameron continued to take the fast, risky routes, dropping a stride in one line, taking another inside turn in another. As they cleared the last fence, he urged the big boned chestnut into a gallop past the eye of the timer.

**“Poe Dameron and Raddus finish with four faults and currently have the fastest time. With no riders going clear, they are currently in first place.”**

“Kylo?” Phasma said softly.

“Yes?”

“You better fucking win.”

She wasn’t wrong. Snoke was going to be furious if he got beaten by Organa.

As Raddus exited the ring, Leia turned to go to the horse and Poe and saw him for the first time.

Their eyes met, and he saw her suck in a startled breath. He stiffened and turned his head away. He waited until they left the in gate before picking up the reins and urging Silencer forward.

**“And this would be our final rider for the Smartpak Grand Prix, Kylo Ren showing TIE Silencer, an eight-year-old Trakehner mare by TIE Fighter, for First Order Farm.”**

He trotted her around to loosen her up and let her see the big, brightly colored jumps. Giving her a pat as the whistle blew, he picked up the canter and headed to the first jump. No one had gone clear today, which meant if he came out of this round with no faults, he would win. Common sense said he should ride conservatively, take the slower but easier routes that were less likely to put him at risk of knocking a rail.

But the conservative approach was boring… and anyway, he couldn’t help wanting to make sure Dameron knew he beat him at his own game. So instead, he began to take the same routes over the course Dameron had, taking the same risky turns and dropping the same strides. It was stupid and arrogant, but fuck it, he was going to do it and win, and it would be worth it.

Plus, Hux had to be practically shitting his pants watching him go balls out like this when he didn’t have to, considering they all were going to get hell if he fucked it up.

He made the sharp inside turn to the water and drove Silencer forward. She responded and cleared the pool with ease.

They continued along the course. He took her back for the triple combination, balancing her with a half halt before 5’3 vertical into the line. One stride to the oxer in the middle, and he took back hard as they landed, knowing he better collect her back if they were going to make the two strides to the third jump in the line and have a decent distance.

Silencer cleared the triple bar as if it was nothing, and he grinned, letting the mare extend her stride to cover more ground. He shouldn’t tempt fate at this point by being reckless, but it was so much more fun this way. As they cleared the last jump and he galloped past the timer’s eye to finish, he began to laugh. He looked up at the board to confirm what he already knew… Not only had he gone clear with zero faults, but he’d managed to do it faster than fucking Dameron had with his four fault round.

**“And Kylo Ren and TIE Silencer finish with the only clear round of the day, taking the first place spot. Congratulations to Kylo Ren and First Order Farm.”**

He jogged Silencer to the gate, patting her, still laughing.

Phasma and Hux waited to meet him. Phasma had her face in her hands. Shaking her head, she looked up at him, laughing.

Hux glared at him, face red. “Win or not, you _are_ a cunt,” the redhead huffed, before storming away.

Grinning, he glanced at Phasma, “Does this mean he’s not sticking around to watch the awards ceremony?”

“You’re an ass, Kylo,” Phasma said sweetly. “That was dumb, reckless, and utterly brilliant.”

“My best girl,” he said, patting Silencer. “I knew she wouldn’t let me down.”

Phasma rolled her eyes, stepping over as the top ten horses began to cluster around the gate. They’d call them in starting with the tenth place finisher to receive their ribbons and take the pictures.

A few horses over, he caught sight of Dameron. When their eyes met, Dameron’s eyes narrowed, and Kylo gave the man a mirthful smirk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested in the type of jumps Kylo would have been jumping, I found a video of a jump off round at Balmoral from last year, you can find it [here](https://youtu.be/-JrKqxGwWGk)
> 
>  
> 
> If you feel like reading up more on hunters, jumpers, and hunt seat in general, here's the [Hunt seat Wiki Page](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hunt_seat)


	3. Horsemanship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snoke leaned forward, lifting his withered hand and pointing a gnarled finger at Kylo. “We’ve talked about this before. These people, they’re sheep. Keep them happy and you’ll be able to bleed them over and over. When I was young and foolish, I’d bleed them dry, take every last dime I could get from them and then toss them away like withered husks. But I got older and wiser. Keep the sheep happy and bleed them slow, and they’ll keep you sated indefinitely.”
> 
> Kylo shifted uncomfortably on his chair, “She was abusing her horse. I—” He snapped his mouth shut, wishing immediately he hadn’t said anything.
> 
> Snoke glowered at him a moment before continuing, flashing his teeth, “You’ve got to learn to pick your battles boy. She gave it a few whacks with her stick cause she’s a petty little bitch that thinks she can do no wrong? Worst case she makes that horse hate her so much that we can get daddy to buy her one with a bigger price tag to ruin.” Leaning back, Snoke picked up his drink again, “I took you in, took you under my wing, Ren. I’ve given you everything you’ve wanted and gave you the tools you needed to become the best of the best in this sport. And I ask for so little in return.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to A_Little_Hope for giving this chapter a beta read.
> 
> The good news is this chapter is a whole lotta Kylo. The bad news is we also get to meet Snoke, and Snoke somehow, no matter what universe he's in, is a creepy old fuck.
> 
> Trigger warning for animal death. See end notes for clarification, but nothing is too graphic.
> 
> There’s a conversation at the end of this chapter in Spanish. I don’t speak Spanish, so I resorted to google translate. I apologize to any Spanish speakers if google translated it badly.
> 
> Quick glossary-
> 
> Ace - short for Acepromazine, an animal tranquilizer.  
> Banamine - An analgesic  
> Colic - A condition with abdominal pain in horses that can in severe cases be fatal.  
> Pre-purchase exam - Examination done prior to a horse being sold to confirm the horse's condtion and soundness for the buyer.

__

_”It's not riding, it´s horsemanship.” - George Morris_

_May 2017_  
_Barrington, IL_

It was a rare spring day that was actually pleasant—not to hot, not too cold, not a cloud in the deep blue sky above. When you grow up in Chicago, or at least right outside Chicago, you learn not to take beautiful days like this for granted. Tomorrow could drop to below freezing with freak lake effect snow, or suddenly jump to near a hundred with ninety percent humidity. The weather here was moody, and during the bipolar mood swings of springtime, you learned to appreciate what you got.

Driving past the pristine black fencing that divided the pastures of lush spring grass, windows of the black Lincoln down and sunroof open, Kylo took in the content horses grazing contently. First Order Farm was Mr. Snoke’s legacy, and the value of the horseflesh owned by the farm was more than the GDP of some small nations. Working here gave one access to some of the best horses in the country.

Today was the type of day he would love to spend working with those horses, riding under the blue sky in the sunshine. That wasn’t going to happen, because of course the nicest day so far this year would fall on one of his few teaching days, as if they weren’t miserable enough. Training horses might have its stressful moments, but overall he found dealing with the animals calming. Teaching humans had the opposite effect on him. He hated it, and he always felt he was on the cusp of losing his temper and verbally tearing the rider he was instructing to shreds for failing to do what he was telling them to do.

Losing your temper with First Order clients was the last thing you ever wanted to do. Most of them had more money than they knew what to do with, which was exactly the type of people Mr. Snoke liked. People who just wrote the checks out to the amount you asked for without looking at the details, at least as long as you made them feel _special_. Snoke spent lots of time on them, pandering to them, chatting them up, pretending to care about their concerns. The old man was a master at dealing with these sorts of people.

Kylo was very much not.

Snoke was aware of how much he despised teaching lessons, but refused to allow him to avoid it completely. Having one of the top riders on the grand prix circuit teaching at First Order was another way to win clientele with money to burn, so the old man insisted.

At least Snoke was okay with him limiting it to only teaching one day every other week when they were home and not away showing. The fact that he was hard to actually get a lesson with, Snoke had told Kylo with a wry smirk, just made people more willing to shell out double the normal lesson fees to have him tell them what to do instead of Phasma or Hux.

He sighed as he parked the Lincoln alongside the barn, at least it was only a five hour block of the day that he was stuck teaching. Once they were over and done with, he should at least have time to get one or two rides in and actually accomplish something useful today. He walked into the small office he had in the stables, one that also doubled as his personal tack and storage room. Pulling a battered notebook out of the desk drawer, he glanced at who was written in as his first lesson and cursed under his breath.

Five of the juniors. The girls ranged in age from fourteen to seventeen, every one of spoiled and entitled and expecting mommy and daddy to be able to get them everything they want with the swipe of a debit card. All of them were aiming for the Maclay finals this year, and when they didn’t make it he was sure they’d be crying to daddy that it was because they needed a better horse, and not because none of their lazy asses wanted to put the work in to actually win at that level of competition.

Taking a deep breath, Kylo tried to force himself to relax. He was already pissed off and he hadn’t even stepped into the ring yet. Glancing in the mirror on the wall opposite his desk, he straightened the collar on his asmar polo shirt before grabbing a rag and giving his tall boots a quick buff. Presentation, Snoke would tell them, mattered more than what real services you offered.

“Look like money,” the old man had told Kylo as he straightened the gold and black blazer he wore whenever he came down to visit the stables, sharp blue eyes peering out from under the brim of his fedora. “Dazzle them with the shiny surface and they’ll be oblivious to anything else.”

Straightening, headed out of the barn for the outdoor arena, slipping on his sunglasses as he stepped out into the sunshine. As he approached the ring, his teeth gritted together. The girls were on their horses, clustered in the middle of the ring chatting instead of warming up their horses so they were ready once he got in the ring.

It was disrespectful.

God knew none of these brats would have survived a lesson with Luke. His uncle had been a stickler for etiquette, demanding focus and resolve and a dedication to horsemanship. It wasn't enough to just be a good rider. You had to respect the sport, respect the animal.

The girls glanced his direction as he walked into the ring before breaking into a spate of giggles. Behind his sunglasses his eyes rolled, great, nothing like having rich jailbait fawning over him.

At least their shirts were tucked and their hair was up in their helmets. If he had to deal with seeing a ponytail flop around for an hour he would lose his mind.

“Your horses better be warmed up if you have so much time to chat,” he snapped at them.

“Of course they are, Mr. Ren,” Vanessa Peavey answered, batting her eyelashes at him from the shadow of her helmet’s visor and flashing a flirty smile. She was the oldest of the bunch, seventeen, and a fucking liar, if her horse’s near sleeping state and the darting, guilty eyes of the younger girls were any indicator. Little bitch could smile and lie with a straight face.

If her father wasn’t one of the two men sitting next to the ring, making boring small talk with one another, he might have ripped into her for it. But with the check writer ringside, it was probably a bad idea to get overly nasty.

“Well, you’ve clearly been standing around too long then, since Spike is half asleep,” he answered, nodding to her horse. The big dappled grey was far too relaxed, even for having been standing doing nothing, and he had to wonder to himself exactly how much ace Hux had told the grooms to give the horse. Shaking his head, he nodded towards the rail, voice curt, “On the rail, _working_ trot, and spread yourselves out.”

The girls quickly dispersed, picking up the trot. He crossed his arms, studying each one as they went by. “Do you consider that a working trot, Jan?” he asked, derisively. Zeta, her mare, was shuffling along at a slow jog that fit in more in a western pleasure ring than in equitation. The girl didn’t answer, but at least had the decency to look chastised. She urged the mare forward, clucking.

He turned his attention to the next girl, “Shorten your reins, Nina. Maintain contact and press him forward _into_ the bit.”

“Kirsten, shoulders back and get your lower leg under you.”

He turned his attention to the youngest of the group, Allie and her chestnut mare Upsilon—and frowned. It was subtle, but the horse’s gait looked off ever so slightly. He pulled his sunglasses down slightly so he could look over them and watch the mare move.

“Everyone do a half turn and reverse the rail,” he ordered, wanting to see how the horse looked going the other way. It was slightly more noticeable while tracking to the right, convincing him that he wasn’t seeing things.

Glancing towards the pair of men ignoring the lesson they were their to watch and chatting aimlessly with one another instead, he bit his lip. Moden Canady, Allie’s father, was the man next to Peavey. If he pulled the girl off the horse right now and called a vet, the man would have questions. And he very much suspected those were questions Mr. Snoke wasn’t going to want them asking. Snoke had sold them the mare a year ago, and she’d been on a long layoff before that.

Which probably meant there were some details about her that Doc Kaplan might have just forgot to report in his prepurchase exam. He drew his eyes up away from the horse and forced himself to focus on the rider. She was the only one in this group that he came close to liking, and probably the best rider of the bunch, outdoing the older girls at fourteen. If luck was on her side, she actually had a chance to make it to regionals.

He wouldn’t fault the girl for not feeling the jig in the horse’s gait. There were professional riders that probably wouldn’t have felt it, as slight as it was.

They'd have to get Dr. Kaplan out late this afternoon, once the horse’s owners were gone and no one was around to ask questions.

Ignoring the twinge of guilt, he pushed his sunglasses back up and asked the girls to canter.

 

* * *

 

“How many steps did you get in that broken line?”

Jan looked like a deer caught in the headlights, “I...um…”

Kylo folded his arms and waited.

“I don’t know,” she muttered.

“Were you counting?” he asked. The girl flushed a deeper red than she already was from exertion. The rest of the girls were similarly worn out and sweaty. At least he made the brats work for once.

Turning towards the other girls making sure they knew his question was being addressed to everyone, “Why do we count our steps?”

They stared at him, glancing at each other.

Finally a small voice spoke, “To help us to rate the horse’s step and find our distance from the jump.”

He smiled, pulling off his sunglasses and nodding at Allie, “If your rhythm isn’t steady, you’re going to be chasing a moving target, and you won’t see your spot. Once you see where you want to leave the ground, _then_ you can adjust, collect or extend, to get yourself to where you want to be.”

“Vanessa, you’re up,” he said, stepping back and waiting as the girl picked up the canter and navigated the tricky course he’d given them. The big grey gelding was getting more and more rank as the lesson and jumping went on.

“He’s woken up,” he told her. Well, more like the drugs were wearing off, but he couldn't say _that_ out loud. “Sit down, pull your shoulders back, and hold him together.”

They jumped in too big to the broken line, and she turned too late to the second jump—a 3’6 oxer that didn’t leave a lot of room for error—burying Spike to the base. The grey planted his feet rather than attempt to jump from the nearly impossible spot, skidding into the jump and nearly unseating his rider.

Vanessa righted herself in the saddle, jerking on the reins hard and jabbing her spurs into Spike’s sides. Before he had time to react she was striking the grey with her bat, cracking him repeatedly behind her leg as he backed and spun away from the whip.

“Hey!” Kylo’s fists clenched. “Stop that now!”

The girl stopped, the horse’s head was up in the air and snorting and whites of his eyes showing. Kylo strode towards them, furious, “The hell do you even think you’re doing?”

“Hux says I need to lay into when he refuses,” Vanessa answered, sounding both wary and defiant as she glared down at him.

Of course he did, the ass.

“You do what Hux tells you to do when you ride with him,” he snarled. “You ride with me and you do what I tell you to do. And you better not ever lay into a horse like that for something that wasn’t its fault again. You expect him to jump from a spot that’s practically impossible, while laying on his neck _making_ it impossible even if he was good enough to try? Of course he’s going to stop. You didn’t given him any other fuc—”

He stopped taking a breath before the f-bomb was fully formed. Reining himself in, he continued, “You didn’t give him any other option. Do not _ever_ do that again when you’re in _my_ ring.”

In his peripheral vision he saw movement at the fence. Mr. Peavey had gotten up and was watching, probably less than pleased with his daughter being berated.

“Cool them out,” he snapped at the girls, “you’re all done for today.”

Not giving them or the fathers another look, he hurried off back into the sanctuary of the stables.

 

* * *

 

There was only fifteen minutes or so before his next lesson. He took five of them cooling off in his office, leaving Dr. Kaplan a message asking him to come look at Upsilon sometime this late afternoon. Once he no longer felt like he might lose his shit and throttle the next person who irritated him, he got up and walked out into the barn.

Over in the grooming area, the five horses from the girls’ lesson were crosstied and being tended to by Juan and Ernesto. Full service meant the owners never had to risk getting their ariat sunshirts dirty. All the messy tasks like grooming or tacking or handling your horse in anyway other than taking the reins and riding it were taken care of by the barn staff.

From the barn’s perspective, it was a double win. They had total control over the horses, the owners completely oblivious to what was being done to keep the animal sane or sound, letting them keep all the questionable things behind the scenes. And was a paid service, tacked onto the cost of the monthly board, adding to First Order’s profit margins.

In his own personal opinion, it was the hallmark of how horsemanship was dead. Those girls he had been teaching didn’t know how to put on a polo wrap or adjust a fucking martingale. They’d never mucked out a stall in their life, didn’t know what to do if their horse colicked. Hell, they probably couldn’t figure out how to groom their horse properly. Because they never needed to, no one was going to make them learn it, and none of them sought out the knowledge.

They had all handed off their horses and walked away, running off to the clubroom and leaving their horses in the hands of the grooms.

Movement in one of the grooming stalls had caught his attention and he blinked, realizing, to his surprise, that he was wrong. _Most_ of them had handed off their horses and run off, but not all.

Upsilon was in the grooming stall, Allie next to her brushing her down. Ernesto checking on her occasionally and joking with the girl, pausing to show her something she was doing wrong or how to do something easier.

Allie wrapped her arms around her horse’s neck in hug, and the mare curled her nose down onto the girl’s shoulder. When the girl let go and took a step back, she glanced over her shoulder and saw Kylo watching.

He gave her a small smile, feeling awkward but as if he should be saying something encouraging. ”You rode great today.”

She blushed, “Thank you, Mr. Ren.”

Nodding, he stepped back, his eyes trailing down to the ground as he turned to leave, unable not to notice how Upsilon was standing with her weight shifted ever so slightly off her right foreleg.

 

* * *

 

Late that afternoon he walked out to meet Kaplan at his truck.

“Ah fuck, _that_ mare,” Kaplan muttered.

“Doc?” he questioned, raising his eyebrows.

“Getting her serviceable was a bitch,” the vet walked to the back of his truck, pulling out equipment. “And she’s pretty much maxed out now on the painkillers. If that right navicular bone is deteriorating, not sure what else I can do. ”

Kylo flinched at that, even though he had been expecting something like this, “I assume she got a special pre-purchase?”

Kaplan smirked as he carried his gear into the barn, “Oh, her x rays were perfectly clean for that.” The burly man shook his head, “Honestly, not sure what Snoke was going for. From what I understand the kid that bought her shows?” When Kylo nodded, Kaplan snorted again, “Maybe Mr. Snoke has friends at the USEF testing lab, cause that mare is a walking cocktail of illegal substances for competition if she was pulled for a random drug test.”

“Fuck,” he muttered, glancing at the chestnut as Juan lead her down the barn aisle. His phone rang, and he pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at the caller ID, “ _Fuck_.” Wincing, he answered, “Mr. Snoke, how are you?”

“Ah, my boy,” Snoke’s voice sounded almost warm, but there was always something vaguely sinister about his tone. “Kylo, if you wouldn’t mind stopping by the house, I’d like to have a little chat.”

He winced, knowing well enough this was going to be about the lesson this morning. Mr. Peavey had probably made a beeline up to Snoke’s residence to complain. “Kaplan’s here, Mr. Snoke, I—”

“Doc is very capable of handling things himself without supervision, I’m sure.” There was a long pause, “And I’d like to know the details of why a vet was called. Another thing we can discuss.”

Licking his lips and drawing in a shaky breath, he nodded, “Yes, sir, I’ll be up to the house shortly.”

 

* * *

 

Red, black, and gold were the three colors that predominated Snoke’s massive house. Floors of black shiny marble, large windows framed by gold and red curtains. Most of the furniture was wood, dark, near black walnut, with ornate embellishments of red and gold.

The man was in his parlor, sipping on a drink while sitting in a black leather armchair, looking out on the wall of windows providing a view out to the farm. Kylo approached him, bowing his head respectfully, “Mr. Snoke.”

The old man waved him over to the chair across from him, watching as he took his seat and waited politely. Snoke’s blazer was off and his dress shirt was loosened at the collar, giving view to the wrinkled skin of his neck. The fedora he normally wore was on the table next a bottle of cognac, leaving his mostly bald head exposed. Slightly off center, just above the man’s forehead, the scarred remnants of what must of been a horrendous injury left a nasty fissure that snaked up to the top of his head.

“A drink, Ren?” Snoke waved his hand towards the cognac, likely at least a thousand dollar bottle. Silas Snoke did not skimp on his luxuries.

Kylo folded his hands together and politely declined, “No, but thank you for offering.”

Snoke clucked disapprovingly, “You, my boy, still need to learn to enjoy the finer things in life. Smoke, drink, fuck, you’re only young once.” When Kylo kept his face impassive, Snoke swirled the liquor in his glass, “I watched the video of your grand prix from Spring Spectacular. It reminded me why I sought after you.” The old man chuckled, “Such a brazen fool, refusing to play it safe. I’d have had your head if you lost being such an idiot when you had an easy win waiting for you.”

“I didn’t lose,” he answered, almost defiantly.

“No,” Snoke’s lips curled into a smile, “you did not.” The old man’s blue eyes accessed him before setting his glass down on the end table next to the fedora, voice sharpening, “Edrison Peavey paid me a visit.”

Licking his lips, Kylo glanced down at the gold and red patterned rug on the floor, “I lost my temper…”

“And upset his dear little daughter, who was oh so fond of you too.” Snoke sneered, “Little bitch probably has been getting off fantasizing about you for the last year and now you’ve ruined it.”

Kylo squirmed, staring down at his feet. Snoke in public was a charming old gentleman, but behind closed doors the man was crude, nasty, and often downright vicious. The last few years Kylo’d learned to get thicker skin and ignore some of the more repulsive things that fell from the man’s mouth, but insinuating a seventeen year old girl was thinking about him while masturbating was a bit much.

Snoke leaned forward, lifting his withered hand and pointing a gnarled finger at Kylo. “We’ve talked about this before. These people, they’re sheep. Keep them happy and you’ll be able to bleed them over and over. When I was young and foolish, I’d bleed them dry, take every last dime I could get from them and then toss them away like withered husks. But I got older and wiser. Keep the sheep happy and bleed them slow, and they’ll keep you sated indefinitely.”

Kylo shifted uncomfortably on his chair, “She was abusing her horse. I—” He snapped his mouth shut, wishing immediately he hadn’t said anything.

Snoke glowered at him a moment before continuing, flashing his teeth, “You’ve got to learn to pick your battles boy. She gave it a few whacks with her stick cause she’s a petty little bitch that thinks she can do no wrong? Worst case she makes that horse hate her so much that we can get daddy to buy her one with a bigger price tag to ruin.” Leaning back, Snoke picked up his drink again, “I took you in, took you under my wing, Ren. I’ve given you everything you’ve wanted and gave you the tools you needed to become the best of the best in this sport. And I ask for so little in return.”

He bowed his head, “Yes, sir. I’m sorry.”

“Good,” Snoke said, curtly, taking a sip of his drink. “Now who did you call Kaplan for?”

“Upsilon, she wasn’t moving right today.”

Snoke straightened slightly, his eyes flashing, “Is that the Dutch mare I sold to the Canadys?”

“Yes, Allie Canady’s horse.”

Setting his drink down with a clink of glass on wood, Snoke frowned, “I hadn’t expected that girl to move up as fast as she did. Thought we might get a year before she started seriously show.”

Kylo scratched his neck, not sure what to say. “Allie’s a good little rider,” he offered, shrugging.

“Yes, Phasma seems to think she has lots of potential. I’ve been using that, trying to convince her father that they need a better horse, before that mare gets pulled for a drug test and I have to call in some favors to make sure the samples come back clean.” Scorn ebbed into Snoke’s tone as he continued, mockingly, “But oh, she loves this horse too much. Oh no, she doesn’t want to part with this one.”

He cringed inwardly, remembering Allie wrapping her arms around her horse’s neck. The girl adored her horse, that much was clear.

There was a cold, calculating look in Snoke’s eyes as he stood up, heading over to stand in front of the windows, gnarled hands twisting together behind his back, “Tell Kaplan to send the results of his exam to me. There’s no reason for you to have to stay around on such a lovely day.”

“Sir?” he stood.

Snoke glanced over his shoulders, blue eyes cold, and voice leaving no room for protest, “I’ll handle it, Ren. Go home.”

 

* * *

 

_Willmar, Minnesota_

 

Rey headed down to the barn to do the night check. Today had been warm, but a bit of a chill was creeping into the night air, so she grabbed one of Chewie’s flannel shirts and threw it on. It hung comically off her small frame, making her look like she was draped in a plaid sail.

Han’s battered pick up truck was missing from its normal parking space. Sometime after dinner he’d vanished, running off to somewhere without telling anyone where he was going. Sighing, she shook her head, hoping he wouldn’t get himself into any trouble tonight.

Falcon whinnied to her as she opened the barn door and she smiled, pausing to give him a peppermint. The sound of pawing and rustling caught her attention though, and she hurried a few stalls down to the source of the noise.

Bell was pawing aggressively in his stall. His chestnut coat was sweaty and matted with shavings, clearly he’d been rolling.

Shit.

She grabbed his halter and lead off the hook on his door, hurrying in. The horse turned, coming over to her. Before she could get his halter on, the horse had turned away, pawing a few times before dropping down and rolling in the shavings, grunting. Swearing under her breath, she flicked the end of the lead at him, driving him back to his feet. This time she managed to get the halter on and lead him out of the stall. If he was, as he sure as hell appeared to be, colicing, she wanted to keep him walking. Taking him outside, she started to walk down the driveway, fumbling with her phone and struggling type a text to Chewie one handed.

The big man appeared a few minutes later, hurrying over. As soon as they stopped Bell went down to roll again, and it took both her and Chewie to get the horse back to his feet. She managed to keep the horse up and standing as Chewie put an ear against Bell’s stomach, listening a moment before shaking his head and saying something that she thought might have been “no gut sounds.”

Chewie took the lead rope, taking over walking the horse while dialing the vet and handing her his phone, knowing well enough no one on the other side of the line would understand him.

“Dr. Statura is on another emergency call right now,” the girl on the line said, apologetically. “He might be able to make it over there by midnight.”

“Shit,” she muttered.

Muttered a little too loudly, as the girl on the phone spoke again, meekly, “Sorry. He’ll get over as soon as he can, tell Han we’re sorry we can’t get there quicker.”

“It’s okay,” Rey said, not feeling like it was okay at all.

Hanging up, she passed the bad news on to Chewie, who growled, shaking his head. “There has to be someone else we can call, right? I mean, that can’t be the only vet around here?”

Raising his eyebrows and giving her a look, she groaned. Why the fuck did Han have to live in nofuckwhere? Chewie had her take over walking, running back to the barn and coming back with two syringes. She held the horse still best she could while Chewie gave Bell the injections. After a few failed attempts, she finally understood that he was telling her he gave Bell banamine and a sedative.

They walked, then walked some more, trading off now and again so the other could rest. Midnight came and there was still no vet, and no Han.

At a quarter to two in the morning headlights coming down the drive cut through the darkness. She hurried over and met a bleary eyed man, younger than she expected. There were smears of blood on his shirt and pants and he looked like he might collapse from exhaustion at any moment.

“Sorry,” Statura said, pulling a bag from the truck, “horse got tangled in barb wire, cut his carotid artery. It was a mess. Got here as soon as I good.”

She flinched at that, barbed wire and horses was a recipe for disaster, “It’s okay, did he make it?”

“No, and it wasn’t from lack of trying,” Statura sighed, nodding at her to lead the way.

A half an hour later she and Chewie were helping hold Bell still while Statura threaded a tube down the horse’s nose and pumped mineral oil directly into Bell’s stomach. Some more banamine, and more walking.

Walking, walking, they must of walked a thousand miles through the night. Bell began to be less and less agitated around four in the morning, and Dr. Statura felt the horse was improving enough to leave. Chewie took Bell and she walked the vet to his truck.

“Make sure there’s no hay or anything in there, but you can put him in his stall. As long as he doesn’t start digging and or rolling or otherwise looking agitated, he can rest.” The exhausted vet rubbed his weary eyes with the back of his hand before extending it for Rey to shake, “Nice to meet you, Rey. Let’s hope the next time there’s better circumstances.”

“Likewise,” she smiled as she shook Statura’s hand. “Are you okay to drive? You could get a few hours of sleep here if you want… Han wouldn’t mind.”

Statura shook his head, smiling, “Appreciate it, but I’ll get home okay.” The man chuckled, “And tell that ass you work for that I haven’t forgotten about that $500 he owes me from that card game last week.”

She gave a weak smile, glancing to the empty spot where Han’s truck would normally be.

It was five in the morning when she felt like it was okay to leave Bell and head back up to the house to crash. Chewie had been trying to chase her to bed since Statura left, but it felt wrong to leave until they were sure the horse wasn’t going to relapse.

As she stepped out into the low light of early morning, she realized Han’s truck was back, parked skewed into its normal spot, headlights on and engine idling. Hurrying over, she found Han slumped over the steering wheel. Cursing, she pulled the man upright so she could reach the ignition and turn the truck off.

The steering wheel was smeared with blood, she froze, startled at the sight, and turned her head to look at Han’s face. He was a battered mess, face bloody and swollen to the point she could barely make out his features.

“Han!” she shrieked, grabbing his shoulder and shaking him. He groaned, and one hazel eye blinked groggily open, the other swollen shut.

“Quit shaking me, kid,” Han grumbled, letting out a pained breath as he sat up in the driver's seat. Wincing, he reached over to the ignition and turned the engine off.

“What happened? God, your a mess, we need to get you to a hospital, let me—” she was babbling, panicked.

Han turned that one open eye towards her, glaring at her sharply. To her surprise, that hazel eye appeared entirely lucid. She’d assumed that if he was in a state like this he was going to be fall down drunk, but he wasn't.

Hell, he may have even been sober.

Pushing her back, he shook his head, “Ain't going to the hospital. I'll be fine, just help me to bed.”

“Fine? You're anything but fine!” Her voice was shrill to her ears. Grumbling. Han slid from the truck's cab, swaying on his feet. Rey rushed forward, catching him before he could fall. He let out a pained hiss as she wrapped her arm around him. “What happened?”

“Watch the ribs, will ya? Think they're bruised.” Han sighed, letting her support his weight as they headed towards the house. “And don't worry about this… shot my mouth off to the wrong people cause I don't know when to shut up.” He sounded strangely cagey, looking away from her as he talked.

“M-maybe you or Chewie should talk to the police?” She offered, nervously. Given her expired visa, she liked keeping herself far away from the cops, but if one of them filed the report and she just kept out of sight…

“No cops. No hospital,” Han snapped. When Rey flinched at his tone, his voice softened. “Been roughed up worse… just need rest and some painkillers, I'll be fine. Ain't a big deal. But I do appreciate the concern, Rey.”

She wanted to argue that this sure seemed like this was a big deal, but having been up now for nearly twenty four hours, exhaustion had caught up and she felt like she didn't have the strength to push the issue. Likewise, she decided to leave it to Chewie to tell Han about Bell. It would be best not to get him worried now.

Instead she helped Han to bed and then went to the bathroom, coming back with three Advil, two Tylenol, a glass of water, and a damp rag. She put the pills and water on the nightstand before doing her best to clean the blood from Han’s battered face without hurting him.

“Chewie is going to freak the fuck out when he sees you,” she muttered.

Han laughed, “Yeah, the hairy human rug is gonna ground me, I'm sure.”

Setting the rag down, she helped Han take the pills, setting the still half full glass of water back on the nightstand and pulling the blankets over Han before starting to walk away.

“Hey, Rey?” Han called, drowsily.

She paused in the doorway to his room, glancing over her shoulder.

“Thanks, kid.”

Smiling weakly, she shook her head, leaving Han’s bedroom and heading a ladder that climbed up the a small loft that had been previously been used for storage. After a month of sleeping on the living room couch—the house only had two bedrooms—Chewie had cleared out the tiny loft area and set her up with a mattress and a few places to store her things. It wasn't really private, but Chewie had gone out of his way and installed some curtains she could pull to close the area off from view.

Not great, but better than sleeping in the living room. And a lot better than she'd had during other points of her life.

Too tired to bother changing, she collapsed on the mattress and was unconscious within minutes.

 

* * *

 

_Mettawa, IL_

 

Kylo awoke to the sound of his cell phone ringing and groaned, reaching out and feeling blindly for it without opening his eyes. It was Monday, his day off when they were home. Without looking at the caller idea, he swiped to accept the call, snarling into the phone, “What?!”

There was a long pause before a timid voice spoke, “Señor Ren?”

He blinked, trying to think through the dull throb in his head. The voice was familiar… “Juan?”

“Si, me disculpo por molestarlo.” The groom continued nervously on the other end of the line, “Hubo un caballo herido en los potreros esta mañana. La yegua le pediste al veterinario que viera ayer. El Sr. Hux y el Sr. Snoke están al tanto, pero pensé que les gustaría saber.”

Despite Spanish being language he’d learned to speak as a kid, it took him a minute to process… horse hurt in the paddocks… the mare he’d had the vet see yesterday…

_Fuck._

“How bad is she?” He winced as he sat up, his head throbbing. Finishing that bottle of rum last night had been a shit idea, hadn’t it?

“No bien,” Juan offered simply. He could imagine the man shrugging in the barn aisle.

“Okay, I appreciate the heads up. Gracias.”

“Da nada.”

He ended the call and stumbled out of bed to the bathroom. There probably was no reason for him to go. It was his day off, and Mr. Snoke would have called him if the old man wanted his help. But he couldn’t help but feel like he _should_ go and find out what’s going on.

 

* * *

 

Kylo’s stomach churned as he pulled the Lincoln into his usual space. A blue tarp covered something in front of the barn, and he knew exactly what was under it. If he walked over he’d probably see her hooves sticking out from under the edge of it.

They’d put her down up outside, it would make it easy for a renderer to come pick her up. When horses died in their stalls it was a bitch to drag them out to where a truck could get access to them.

It was warm again today and the sun was shining, the barn door was open and he could see Snoke talking to a distressed Mr. Canady.

The mare’s death would be a boon for Snoke, removing the risk of her owner’s finding out how unsound she already was at the time they bought her and giving a new sale opportunity when the family bought a new horse.

He tried not to think about how it probably wasn’t a coincidence that this happened today, tried to take a deep breath and get his stomach to settle. Between the stress and his hangover, it refused, and he hurried into the clubroom, wanting to get to the bathroom so he wouldn’t have to risk someone see him puking into the landscaping.

The sound of sobs met his ears as he opened the door. On one of the couches across the room, Phasma was sitting with her arm around Allie Canady, trying to console the girl as she cried in near hysterics.

Somehow he made it into the men’s room and didn’t throw up on his feet right then and there. When he finished ejecting the contents of his stomach, Kylo leaned his throbbing head against the cool porcelain rim. If Snoke had arranged the mare’s death, then it was hard for him not to feel responsible for setting this in motion by calling the vet yesterday. His concern had probably been the animal’s death sentence.

Once he was sure the nausea had passed, he made himself look as presentable as he could before walking back out into the clubroom, where Allie was still sobbing into Phasma’s shoulder. He walked over and gave the girl’s shoulder a squeeze.

“I’m sorry,” he said, simply. Phasma rolled her blue eyes over to look at him, raising her eyebrows. Her thoughts were running along the same lines as his. Accidents happen, but this accident was probably too convenient.

He headed out to the barn, giving the blue tarp wide berth, hoping to at least get some vague answers and details. He passed Dr. Kaplan, who had paperwork spread across the hood of his truck. The vet gave him a nod but said nothing, turning his attention back to the papers in front of him.

Insurance forms.

Doc had a loose tongue sometimes, but the man wasn’t about to say anything with Snoke a short distance away. So Kylo didn’t bother to stop and ask questions.

As he walked into the shade of the barn, he heard Snoke’s wheedling voice, full of false sympathy, as he talked to Mr. Canady, “A shame, such a shame.” Snoke shook his head ruefully, his fedora pulled low on his forehead. “They’re such amazing creatures, so strong, so powerful, yet so fragile. We forget the last part, until a freak accident like this happens.”

Snoke clapped his gnarled old hand onto Canady’s shoulder, “Which is why we have the sense to insure them. Don’t worry, we’ll handle the claim. And it should be enough to get your girl an even better horse so she can forget this sadness.”

The man’s wrinkled face gave a sympathetic smile, “We’ll handle everything for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding the animal death mentioned in the before note, one horse is injured in a "paddock accident" (which Kylo very much doubts was an accident) and put down. Additionally, the vet who comes to help Han's horse when it's colicing mentions it's previous call had been tangled in barbed wire and hadn't made it. 
> 
> So our OTP is still a few states a part. I suspect they'll first meet in chapter 5 since it'll take one more chapter to create the scenario that's going to get Rey, Han, Chewie, and their stable of underdogs to Illinois. I'm planting the seeds of that plot point in this chapter. 
> 
> Snoke is a creepy old fuck. Writing him kind of creeped me out a bit.
> 
> For any non-horse people, if anything horse related term is confusing, let me know. I'll add it to the glossary.


	4. Not So Stable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She glared down at him, “You’re going to have to do better than that. What kind of trouble are you in?”
> 
> “Kid, it ain’t—”
> 
> Chewie pounded his fist into the table with an incoherent shout. Han blanched, looking down.
> 
> Dropping into a chair, she shook her head, “Do you have any idea how worried we’ve been? Please, just tell us what’s going on?”
> 
> Running a hand down his face and wincing as he brushed the bruises and scrapes, Han fidgeted in his chair, “So, I… um… might owe some people some money.”
> 
> “How much money?” She sighed, closing her eyes. Chewie leaned his elbows on the table and buried his face into his big hands, shaking his head. She had a little bit saved up, she was sure Chewie would have some he could throw in to help bail Han out of whatever mess he’d gotten himself in.
> 
> “Um,” Han shifted, pulling on his shirt collar, “Six—” His words faded into a mumble, and she missed the rest. Chewie looked up and glared at Han, who took a deep breath and looked down at his hands. “Sixty thousand.”
> 
> Her mouth dropped open. Sixty thousand dollars?
> 
> The room fell to silence as she and Chewie stared at Han in disbelief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to A_Little_Hope for giving this a beta read.
> 
> If you see a term you have a question about what it means, let me know in a comment and I can add the definition in my little chapter glossary.
> 
> Glossary
> 
> Ledges - Ledges Sporting Horses, a show grounds in Roscoe, Illinois.  
> Eq (ie: junior eq) - Equitation. Classes judged on the rider and the rider’s ability to control the horse.  
> Medals/Medal class - Specialized equitation classes that are designed to test the rider’s ability to navigate difficult courses.  
> School Horse - Horses owned by a stables to be used in lessons for people who don’t have a horse.  
> Claimed (ie “claimed off track”) - a horse that purchased from a claiming race, a race where every horse is available for purchase for a predetermined price.

_A horse is the projection of peoples' dreams about themselves - strong, powerful, beautiful -  
and it has the capability of giving us escape from our mundane existence. ~Pam Brown _

 

_June 2017_  
_Willmar, Minnesota_

“Ready?”

Rey gazed at the course Han had arranged in the grass field he used as his outdoor arena from Falcon’s back, wondering what she had been thinking when she had, rather eagerly, asked him if she could do this. The jumps were all set somewhere between 1.4 and 1.6 meters, and they looked impossibly big set together in a course. She’d jumped individual fences that height, maybe even higher, after goading and sometimes begging Han into raising them. But this… this was something else entirely.

“Um…” was all she managed to choke out in answer.

Han snorted, “Kid, you were the one who wanted to do this. We better not have dragged all of my jumps out here for nothing.”

She let out a breath, “Okay, okay…” Letting Falcon walk in a circle—the gelding was getting annoyed with standing still—she looked at the jumps, remembering the course she and Han had come up.

Slowly she gathered her reins, and Falcon’s ears pricked up and he sped up his walk, excited.

Han chuckled affectionately, “Old man just refuses to act his age.”

Taking a breath, she asked the horse to canter. He stretched out eagerly when she let him build some pace, and then came back into her hands when she asked him to balance and collect. He might not be the prettiest horse, but Falcon was an absolute dream to ride.

His head came up as he caught sight of the first fence, his pace quickening. She took a light hold and asked him slow back down and he tossed his head once before politely coming back to her. They got to a perfect spot for the first jump, and he sprang over it easily.

She loved Falcon’s jump. There was something amazingly effortless in the way he cleared the big obstacles. Even when he had to hitch his hind end up to make sure he cleared a fence it somehow still seemed smooth and easy to ride.

They navigated the twisting course, and despite a minor panic attack at the combination line, where she closed her eyes and shoved her reins forward in a desperate “Jesus or at least Falcon take the wheel” moment, they had no issues. Even on that combination, the three massive jumps each set a stride apart, Falcon brushed off his rider’s complete and utter failure to actually continue to ride and leapt his way through. She regained her composure, taking control once again and guiding the horse to the last jump, a triple bar that seemed very wide and very solid.

Even Falcon had to expend some effort to get over it, and they landed with a jolt that caused her teeth to click together.

Pulling the horse back to a trot, she jogged over to where Han was leaning on a fencepost, arms crossed over his chest and a wry, slightly amused smile on his face. The bruises from a few weeks ago were still visible on his face, but slowly fading.

“Take a breath before you pass out, Rey,” he called as she neared.

Gasping in a deep breath, she pulled up next to Han. “Didn't realize I was holding it,” she breathed out, still gasping for air.

“Yeah, we got to work on that,” Han stepped forward and gave Falcon a pat on the neck. The gelding immediately nuzzled the front of Han’s shirt, and the man laughed, murmuring to the horse, “Ain't sure which of us is a more sentimental old fool, you silly beast.”

Han turned his attention back to Rey, “Breathing and nerves in general, we need to find a way to get you to avoid mid-course panic like you had at the combination.”

She bit her lip, looking away, knowing it had only been because Falcon was Falcon that the combination line hadn’t ended in disaster.

“Hell, kid, quit looking like a whipped dog. We've all got issues to work on. That don't mean you didn't do damn well.” Han’s eyes twinkled, “You're a natural rider, Rey. One of the best I've seen in my lifetime. The fact that before me you were entirely self taught blows my mind.”

Her cheeks heated and she leaned down to stroke Falcon’s neck. Before she could figure out what to say, thank you or something, the rumble of tires on the gravel driveway caught both their attention.

The car was an old white Cadillac, rusted out spots in the wheel wells. It wasn't familiar, probably someone lost and looking for a way to turn around. She didn’t think much of it, at least until she looked at Han.

Han had gone rigid, his eyes fixed on the car. When he flicked his eyes at her they weren’t just apprehensive, they were fearful.

“Stay here,” Han said, trying to sound as if he wasn’t worried and failing. “Cool Falcon out good, I’ll handle this.”

“Han?” Rey asked, apprehension rising.

“It’s nothing,” he glanced over his shoulder at her as he started to walk away, “just take care of the damned horse and leave this to me.”

She let Falcon walk on a loose rein, watching warily the Cadillac pulled to a stop and squirrely looking man in jeans, a white t-shirt, and a trucker hat pulled down low over his eyes climbed out, lean against the car with his arms crossed, watching as Han approached. The conversation that ensued was animated, and she wished she could hear what they were talking about. Her instincts were telling her this was trouble.

After awhile she let her attention stray, letting Falcon amble between the jumps until he was no longer hot from exerting himself. She was about to get off and bring Falcon back to the barn when a loud yell brought her attention back to the two men down the driveway.

The stranger had grabbed Han by his shirt and had spun him around, slamming against the car, snarling in Han’s face.

“HEY!” she shouted, urging Falcon into a run before she'd finished gathering the reins. The horse responded, surging forward and eating up the ground between Han and the man attacking him. She pulled up hard, skidding on the gravel. “Let him go now!”

“Fuck off,” the man spat, glaring at at her, but seeming apprehensive about Falcon. Up close she could see he looked even more scraggily than he had at a distance. He had a scruff of facial hair, and his eyes, shaded by his cap’s visor, seemed hollow and sinister. The type of person who she would have given one look at during her hitchhiking days and found a way to say no thanks.

Rey pulled her foot out of the stirrup and kicked at the man. He dodged, stumbling back, hand dropping to the waistband of his jeans, curling around something that was sticking up out of them.

“Rey! Damn it… get out—” Han’s voice was strained, frightened. She blinked in confusion at the gun in the stranger’s hand, realizing exactly what had been sticking out of the waist of the man’s pants.

“Listen to the old fool and fuck off, girl,” the man growled at her, flashing a grin that was missing several teeth. “You ain’t part of this conversation.”

Reining Falcon back, she considered charging the horse forward, trying to trample the man, but wasn’t sure if she could pull it off without herself or Falcon getting shot. Before she could consider it any further, there metallic chung chung noise behind her, followed by Chewie yelling. Looking back she saw the big man aiming a shotgun at the stranger, all while howling unintelligibly.

The stranger took a step back, then held his hands up, holding the gun loosely by the grip, backing towards the car as Han scurried away towards Chewie. As he reached the car door, he slowly put the gun back into his waistband, glaring at Han.

“We’re all tired of your shit, Solo,” the man spat. “Bala is _really_ tired of your shit. He expects to see you tonight, and I suggest you show.”

With that the man slipped into the car, gunning it into reverse and turning around before vanishing down the driveway. Once the car was out of sight, she jumped off Falcon, leading the horse over, towards Han and Chewie, “What the bloody hell was _that_?!”

“I’m taking care of it,” Han muttered, looking at his feet.

Chewie glared at Han questioningly, and she was just able to make out his words, “What are you taking care of?”

“Nothing, it’s not… it isn’t your business, not either of your business…” Han backed away, whirling suddenly at Rey, “And I don’t care if I’m about to be shot, kid, don’t you ever gallop one of my horses on hardpack like this again.”

She huffed, exasperated and glared at him with disbelief.

“What kind of trouble are you in now?” Chewie asked, his voice low.

Han huffed, backing away from the two of them, “Check his feet good and make sure the gravel didn’t tear them up. Wrap him and pack his hooves. Horses are your concern, not this.” The man turned, hurrying away.

Chewie growled low under his breath, and she thought she picked out “been my concern for thirty years,” from the rest of the unintelligible jumble.

Watching as Han jumped into his truck and drove away, she looked warily at Chewie, “What the hell kind of trouble has he gotten himself into?”

The only response was a raise of the big man’s eyebrows and a worried shake of his head.

 

* * *

 

_Barrington, IL_

 

Thursday mornings at First Order were reserved for training and showing potential sale horses, making it one of Kylo’s favorite times to be at the barn. Hux dealt with showing horses or potential buyers, and he could take the time to just ride and not have to deal with anyone but the horses. If he was lucky, he could wrap up his rides and call it a day before the barn officially opened for the clients in the afternoon.

He was pulling the tack from Retribution when Hux’s voice filtered down the aisle, “I can give you a full tour if you like, Mr. Snoke loves to show off his facilities.”

“That’s not necessary, though this is a lovely barn,” a female voice responded. “My client will be here soon. I apologize for the wait… I suppose you know how these people can be?”

“We have our share of them,” Hux chuckled. Kylo rolled his eyes at the simpering, gentle tone that was anything like the Hux he knew. The redhead wasn’t nearly as good at this as Snoke was, his tone sounding slightly forced.

The two of them drew closer, and Kylo glanced a wary eye at them as he crouched down to pull off Retribution’s boots.

“Only about a third of the horse's here are boarders,” Hux explained, approaching Kylo. “The rest are Mr. Snoke’s—his personal breeding stock, show horses, as well as sale horses. The finest bloodstock, true to foundation bloodlines.”

He rolled his eyes, unable to stop himself from speaking, “Wrong word.”

Hux froze, blue eyes narrowing dangerously, his voice had an edge to it as he spoke through his fake smile, “Excuse me?”

“Bloodstock,” Kylo started, standing up and tossing the boots to the side of the grooming stall, “in its most common usage, refers to Thoroughbreds, not warmbloods.”

Hux’s lips curled in annoyance, “And it also means horses descended from foundation lines of a breed.”

No, it did not mean that. He gave Hux a look but kept his mouth shut. The redhead had a hot temper and a long memory; it wasn't a good idea to antagonize him _too_ much.

The woman standing next to him had thick, curly brown hair that was pulled back into a ponytail and tucked under a Codebreaker Stables hat. Her blue eyes looked highly amused at the way this conversation was going, “Forgive me, Armitage, but I believe Mr…” She paused, scanning Kylo up and down, “You’re Kylo Ren, aren’t you?”

He shifted his weight, “I… yes…”

She gave a slight smirk, before turning her attention back to Hux, “Well, Mr. Ren is correct here. Bloodstock when referring to foundation bloodstock is only referring to the foundation horses of the breed, not their descendants.” The woman gave Hux a sweet smile, “But I knew what you meant.”

Kylo was pretty sure he heard Hux grind his teeth together.

“Well, anyway,” Hux gave a forced smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Kylo, let this is Miss Emerson, from Codebreaker Stables. She’s got a client looking at a few horses today.”

“Work for Masterson, then?” he asked, feeling like he should say something. He instantly regretted it the moment it left his mouth. He’d just blurted it out like an idiot and of course she worked for Masterson, he owned Codebreaker.

“Master of Codebreaker as we call him,” she responded with a laugh. “And both of you, please, call me Lovey.”

“Right, sure,” he responded, awkwardly, taking a step back to move closer to the horse. Hux smirked, and Kylo shot him a glare. Bastard knew he hated trying to make small talk, especially with people he didn't know.

Lovey’s eyed Kylo up and down, licking her lips and smiling,“I think I caught your Grand Prix round at Balmoral a bit back. Like taking risks, huh?”

“Sometimes,” he shrugged, looking down at his hands and shifting his weight back and forth between his feet.

She raised her eyebrows at him, looking almost bemused. To his relief her phone chimed, and she took it out, “Oh good, my client’s here. I better go find her before she gets lost.”

Hux smiled, “Yes, we’ll get the first horse and meet you at the ring, Miss Emerson.” The redhead’s blue eyes followed her until she was out of sight, then they rolled at Kylo in contempt.

“What?” he asked, crouching down to run his hands down Retribution’s legs, feeling for any heat or puffiness. There was nothing, good.

“How do you ever get laid when you ignore a nice piece of ass throwing herself at you like that?” Hux scoffed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shrugged. “And I have work to do.”

“Hopeless…” Hux muttered as he walked away.

 

* * *

 

He rode his last horse of the day as Phasma showed off Lancer and Nebulon KS to the potential buyer. Apparently they liked Nebulon. Emerson got on the pinto Oldenburg after Phasma and tried him out, jumping the gelding over a three foot course.

Watching her a few minutes, he decided she was a decent enough rider. Kept her hands too low and her reins too long, but it seemed like no one knew how to properly carry their hands these days. George Morris lamented over it in his clinics and Luke, before he dropped off the face of the Earth, used to bitch endlessly about how proper equitation was being lost in this generation.

Emerson got off and her client got on. The middle aged woman was maybe an advanced beginner and kept catching Nebulon’s mouth as she posted. The gelding pinned his ears back but otherwise behaved himself as Emerson coached her client through the the trot and canter, then over a few crossrails and low verticals.

He shook his head. Nebulon had a $125,000 price tag, and was far more horse than the woman needed to jump around the beginner divisions. What she needed was a steady packer and lots of lessons, but like most of these people, she clearly had more money than sense.

When he got off, Hux and Emerson were talking business by the gate.

“I’ll talk to Dr. Harter about the pre-purchase, she can probably be out Tuesday for the exam.”

Hux stiffened, “We have Dr. Kaplan available on call, he could be here later today.”

Emerson smiled an extra sweet smile, “Yes, well, I’m afraid we only use Harter for our pre-purchase exams.”

“Harter is a dinosaur, I’m amazed she’s still in business. Kaplan has the most state of the art—”

“I’m afraid that’s non-negotiable,” Emerson’s blue eyes glinted in the afternoon sun. “I trust Harter. And I mean no offense towards First Order or Dr. Kaplan, but I would prefer not to use your on call vet to look at the horse you’re selling us.”

“Of course,” Hux smiled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes or voice. His eyes had narrowed as they glared coldly at Emerson, “You can have whatever vet you’d like do the exam. I was merely suggesting using Kaplan could expedite the process.”

“We’re fine waiting a few days. Now that that’s settled…” Emerson glanced over her shoulder at Kylo, smiling, “Hux said it’s your birthday, Mr. Ren.”

“I… uh, yes, it is.” He shot an annoyed look at Hux, who just smirked.

“Well, happy birthday, then!” She smiled wolfishly,“Would you like to go out and get a few drinks tonight? We should celebrate.”

“Uh, I… thank you… but,” he stuttered, loosening his horse’s noseband and taking a deep breath. “I mean, I would love to, but I have plans.”

Emerson tutted in disappointment. Behind her Hux rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“A rain check then, maybe we could meet up next show?”

He smiled, meekly, “Um, maybe. I mean, sure. Sometime.”

She smiled and shook Hux’s hand before walking away. Once she was out of ear shot, Hux looked at him, exasperated. “Does she have to drop to her knees and blow you right here to get through that thick skull of yours?”

Kylo shook his head, leading his horse past Hux without looking at him, “Fuck off, Armitage.”

 

* * *

 

_Willmar, MN_

 

Han still hadn’t come home when Chewie finally insisted Rey go to bed.

They had spent most of the night sitting at the kitchen table in the small house, listening for the sound of Han’s truck returning. Neither of them had talked much. The earlier events of the day were hanging over them, and talking about it seemed overwhelming, especially while Han was gone. Chewie’s quiet broodiness told her the man was deeply concerned about his friend.

She was deeply concerned about him too.

The last few months, she’d felt more welcomed and cared about than she had in her whole miserable life. Han, for all his gruff bluster, was a soft hearted man who had taken a very clear liking to her. He wasn’t just trying to improve her as a rider for his own benefit, but for her own, because he thought she had potential.

Chewie, for all the brutishness of his looks, was a sweetheart who went out of his way to make sure she took care of herself. He insisted she take a day off and would cover her chores if she wasn’t feeling well. He made sure she was eating right and would scold her for skipping a meal. In a weirdly maternal way, the man doted on both her and Han.

Han and Chewie both actually _cared_ about her.

She couldn’t really say that about anyone else she’d known in her short, miserable life. Who had ever given a shit about her? Certainly not Plutt. To him she’d been a fostering allowance that he could pocket and free labor around his yard.

Sighing, she curled up in her bed up in the loft with the tablet Chewie had given her as a gift, scrolling through the Chronicle of the Horse forums. There was a new trainwreck thread in the dressage forum, about some Nick guy who’d been hosting clinics in Iowa and turned out to be lying about his background. Looked like there were fake accounts posting in his defense and everything. Too bad she wasn’t in the mood for that sort of drama, it looked like it would entertaining.

Instead she bounced around youtube horse videos. There were some rounds from a grand prix a few weeks ago posted on USEFNetwork’s youtube account. She really hadn’t paid attention to show jumping since she was a kid, and she knew none of the horses or new riders that were now on the circuit. The winning round was some dude named, of all things, Kylo Ren. That couldn’t be a real name, who the fuck would name their kid “Kylo”?

She clicked play. His horse was named TIE Silencer, a big black mare with a blaze and white socks that was drool-worthy gorgeous. The round started, and she soon shaking her head. He was attacking the course like he had something to lose, inside turns, dropping strides, risky approaches that could save a few fractions of a second. It was the type of round you’d expect if he had someone to beat.

But according to the announcer and the video description, he was the last rider and no one had gone clear. The sensible approach would have been to be cautious and careful, concentrating on going clear and not on speed. Apparently Ren’s ego was bigger than his sense, and he risked everything to look flashy.

Rolling her eyes as the clip ended, she muttered to herself, “What an idiot.”

Still too worried to try to sleep, she set the tablet down and picked up a book from the floor—“I am a Horseman, Like My Father Before Me” by Luke Skywalker. She’d found it at a thrift shop in town, much to her surprise. That was the last place she’d expect to find a book on theory of riding, much less one by the more famous names in hunt seat equitation.

Han had given the book a strange look when she’d shown it to him, a lot less excited than she had been about it.

Just as she started to read an engine roared outside and she dropped the book on her face in surprise. Ow. She rubbed her nose as she scurried down the ladder of the loft. Chewie was already rushing out the front door as brakes squealed as a car—not Han’s truck—skidded on the gravel as it made a sharp turn, the door opening and someone being thrown out as the car turned.

She shrieked and Chewie let out a howl or rage, rushing forward as the car sped away, taillights vanishing down the drive.

Han groaned on the ground, scrapped up and clearly roughed up, thankfully not as bad as it had been a few weeks ago. Chewie dragged him to his feet and she ducked under his arm to support his other side.

“What the bloody hell?!” she hissed at him.

“Wha’?” Han grumbled, looking slightly dazed, “Jus’ some friends givin’ me a ride home.”

Chewie let out a scolding growl.

“Friends? Last I checked friends slow the car down, the good ones might even stop,” she huffed, exasperated, as they dragged Han into the kitchen and dumped him into a chair.

“Yeah, well, you know, busy people, got things to do. Didn’t want to bother them with that whole stopping shit,” Han winced as she shifted in the chair.

“Han, what the hell is going on?” she put her hands on her hips, trying to look stern.

Han refused to look at her, “It’s nothing, my business.”

Chewie slammed a first aid kit on to the table hard enough that she thought it might break in two. Han pointedly looked away from him.

She glared down at him, “You’re going to have to do better than that. What kind of trouble are you in?”

“Kid, it ain’t—”

Chewie pounded his fist into the table with an incoherent shout. Han blanched, looking down.

Dropping into a chair, she shook her head, “Do you have any idea how worried we’ve been? Please, just tell us what’s going on?”

Running a hand down his face and wincing as he brushed the bruises and scrapes, Han fidgeted in his chair, “So, I… um… might owe some people some money.”

“How much money?” She sighed, closing her eyes. Chewie leaned his elbows on the table and buried his face into his big hands, shaking his head. She had a little bit saved up, she was sure Chewie would have some he could throw in to help bail Han out of whatever mess he’d gotten himself in.

“Um,” Han shifted, pulling on his shirt collar, “Six—” His words faded into a mumble, and she missed the rest. Chewie looked up and glared at Han, who took a deep breath and looked down at his hands. “Sixty thousand.”

Her mouth dropped open. Sixty thousand dollars?

The room fell to silence as she and Chewie stared at Han in disbelief.

 

* * *

 

“How?” Chewie shouted. After a few minutes of silence, he’d erupted into incoherent yelling before pounding his fist on the table and uttering the single word, “How.”

Han stared down at the table, “So I made a few bad bets.”

“A few added up to sixty grand?” she asked, incredulously.

“And maybe then a few more trying to make up the money I lost…”

Chewie slammed his fist into the table again, making it jump.

“I ain’t saying it was smart… I just, I figured I could put off selling any of the horses till we got some more miles on them. Maybe even keep Van…”

She buried her face into her hands, “Aren’t they sales prospects? Selling them eventually was the point…”

“I know, I know,” Han sighed. “But I really like Van. And Promise, give her another couple years and she’ll be a gem, I swear.”

Okay, she took a deep breath. They’d figure out how to take care of this. “What about the farm? Could you get a loan on it?”

Han looked at his hands again, “I maxed the line of credit on this place out already.”

Chewie groaned. She closed her eyes. Between her and Chewie, maybe they could come up with $5000. There wasn’t much around here they could sell to make up the rest— the truck, the tractor… maybe they’d get another five thousand if they sold those. Her eyes glanced the direction the barn was from the house and she thought about an old proverb from the Irish gypsies.

_Gypsy gold does not clink and glitter, it gleams in the sun and neighs in the dark._

Gypsy gold, yeah, that’s where Han’s money was. Tucked away in their stalls for the night.

“The horses,” she shook her head, “you’ve got to sell them then.”

Han made scoffing noise, “‘Round here? I’m gonna be lucky to get more than a couple grand for most of them. If they had some real show records, maybe we could get more. And I ain’t selling Falcon, not ever.”

She frowned thoughtfully, “Falcon… what, I mean... there are classes with prize money, right?”

Blinking, Han shook his head, “What are you talking about?”

“Is there any reason why we couldn’t show him again?” she felt growing excitement. If they went and won some grand prixs, they could win the money Han needed. Plus they’d be putting some distance between him and the goons who were upset with him. “You’ve said it yourself he’s still got what it takes to win. And we could show the other horses, get them real show records and maybe even find buyers…”

Han groaned, “Kid, this ain’t a movie. You’re not going to just walk on into the Grand Prix ring on a twenty three year old horse and win.”

“He can still run circles around other horses, you’ve said it yourself—”

“Even if he could, you can’t,” Han snapped. “You did one local show, you’ve jumped one not even Grand Prix level course out there today. You ain’t even close to ready to show at that level. I ain’t about to let you do something over your head like that. You’ll get yourself hurt.”

“We could try, I’ve got some money. I’ll pay the entry fee. Let’s just try.” She looked at Han, pleadingly. “And the other horses, people around those types of shows will be likely to pay more than people around here.”

“Getting away from here is a good idea anyway,” Chewie grumbled.

Han huffed, “We’re we supposed to go? Even if we go to a show we’ve got to come back, ain’t like I can afford to board them somewhere…”

Chewie shook his head and said something that sounded like Lay or Laya or Layla. She couldn’t really tell.

Whatever it was, Han blanched, “She’s not going to want to see me.”

Crossing his arms, Chewie just glared at Han.

“Alright, alright,” Han sighed, “I’ll give her a call. And I’ll check the IHJA schedule.”

“IHJA?” she blinked, confused. “And give who a call?”

“Illinois Hunter Jumper Association,” Han rolled his eyes. “If we’re looking for decent prize money, that’d be the closest show scene to check out. There’s a couple showgrounds in Northern Illinois and AA rated shows are pretty regular throughout the summer.”

“So… we’re going to do this?” she took a breath, excited, hoping she wasn’t about to get in over her head like Han thought she was.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re going to give it a try. But you’re gonna be careful with my horse. And with yourself, kid.”

 

* * *

 

_Mettawa, IL_

 

Kylo hummed to himself as he walked through the darkened hallway, one hand on a kitchen stool he was dragging behind him, the other swinging a bottle of Grey Goose. He’d finished off the last of his rum, much to his disappointment. When it came to liquor he prefered rum, prefered cheap rum, with all honesty. Captain Morgan, Malibu, Bacardi—shit Snoke would probably be offended he even kept in the man’s house. Or extra house, bonus house, whatever the fuck you called it when you had a dozen of them.

But he was out of rum, so he’d moved on to vodka. Vodka he went top shelf—Grey Goose, Belvedere, Chopin—he wasn’t a fucking animal.

He took a swig straight from the bottle as he climbed the curving staircase, stool banging against each step as he pulled it along. The house, if you called a place like this a house, was huge and sprawling. Snoke had pushed him to moving in to be closer to the farm a few years ago, giving up his small apartment in downtown Chicago. It would have been stupid not to take up the offer, living closer to work and rent free in a small fucking palace were the type of perks you got when you worked for Silas Snoke.

Most of his time here was spent in the kitchen, his bedroom, or a small room he’d turned into a den with a couch and TV. There were still rooms he’d never gone into, probably never would. What was the need?

He hummed happy birthday to himself and swayed, booting his bedroom door open and walking to the huge, walk in closet. Hunt coats and show shirts and breeches hung on one side, nicer suits and dress shirts for occasional parties Snoke hosted. The upper shelves were deep and even someone as tall as he was couldn’t reach all the way back. He’d spent some time trying before he’d staggered his way down to the kitchen. Odds and ends he’d knocked down while groping for the tote he was looking for were scattered the floor along with the empty bottle Bacardi bottle he’d dropped after he’d finished it off.

Kicking a few things out of the way, he shoved the stool below one of the shelves and clambered up onto it, nearly knocking it over as he stood up. The stool rockef slightly under him; he gripped the edge of the shelf to steady himself before reaching to pull the boxes in the back forward. The first was stuffed with old ribbons and awards he’d earned over the years and couldn’t seem to bring himself to get rid of even though he had no idea what to do with them. He pulled it forward and tossed it to the floor, grabbing a heavy tote behind it. Dragging it forward, he sang under his breath, “Happy birthday dear Kylo. Happy birthday tooo meeeee….”

Grabbing the tote, he tried to carry it with one arm as he jumped off the stool, his other hand occupied with the bottle of vodka. It didn’t work out well, he stumbled as his feet hit the floor, off balance. The tote crashed to the floor, spilling out the photo albums and boxes of photographs. He fell back and landed on his ass, vodka splashing out to bottle onto his chest.

Groaning, he sat up, spilling more vodka as he pulled on his t-shirt to look at the wet spot. Fuck, wasting good vodka like a jackass. He picked the bottle up and took a long pull. Like a fucking jackass.

Sighing, he sat up and scooted over to the spilled contents of the tote, fumbling through some of the spilled photographs. Lots of ponies… he’d gone through a quite a few of them as he grew. There was him at three in a leadline class on his pinto shetland mix JoJo. He’d been so small his stirrups hadn’t come past the saddle flaps.

There was the white asshole Albert, who taught him how to sit a buck and hang on when your pony decided to bolt. Cowboy the black welsh who he won the year end award in small pony hunters with when he was seven. Him sitting on Gypsy, the little red mare he went on to pony medals with two years in a row, bareback with just a halter and lead while letting her graze.

He sighed, sweeping the pictures into a pile and shoving them back into the box they fell out of. Fumbling with the other boxes, he found the one he was looking for, photos from his mid to late teens. There were a few pictures of people, other riders from his uncle’s Jedi Equestrian Academy, but he brushed past those. Fuck people. People sucked. He always had liked horses better than people. Instead he found the pictures of his horses—Sunspire, a golden chestnut Selle Francais that had been his junior hunter, and Starfell, his junior eq horse.

Of course Starfell had never actually been _his_ horse. Luke had owned the brown thoroughbred, but for his years with his uncle that horse had been as good as his. At least until he suddenly wasn’t.

Picking up the picture from his regional win for the Maclay at seventeen, he stared at himself grinning on the back of the big boned gelding. People had always assumed Star was a warmblood because of his size, never suspecting he was a thoroughbred Han had claimed as a two year old off the track and then sold to Luke.

Kylo’s eyes drifted down to his uncle in the picture, standing next to him and the horse, smiling in that arrogant way Luke always did. Like he knew more than everyone else around him. Like he wasn’t a hypocrite who spouted off about horsemanship and respect when he’d turn just as quick and sell a horse out from under you.

His teeth gritted together and he snarled, tearing the photo to rip Luke out of it. He crumpled the piece with Luke in his hand and took another pull from the bottle as he dropped the balled up bit of photograph to the floor. There were a few more spilled photos, and he rocked onto his knees so he could sweep them up into a pile. As gathered them together, he uncovered what looked like an impromptu snapshot. He was sitting on the outdoor arena fence at his mother’s barn, maybe seven years old. She must have been teaching, she was in the ring, leaning on the fence with her elbows next to him. His father stood on the other side of the fence, leaning against it next to him with his arms crossed and bemused grin on his face.

He picked up the picture with a trembling hand, staring down at it numbly before crushing it in his fist and throwing it into the wall.

Outside the closet, his phone began to ring. Swearing, he stumbled to his feet, nearly tripping as he stumbled out into the bedroom. He grabbed the phone without looking at the number, slamming the bottle of vodka down on the nightstand as he fumbled to swipe to accept the call.

“The fuck?!” he slurred into the phone as a greeting.

“...Ben?”

The familiar voice cut through the haze of alcohol and his breath caught in his chest. Oh, no. No no. Fuck no.

“Ben… I… I just…” she stuttered on the other end of the line. Her voice sounded a little raspier than he remembered.

He jerked the phone from his ear and ended the call. Stumbling back and sitting down hard on the edge of the bed. How the fuck did she get his number?

The phone rang again with the same number coming up. His hand shook, why couldn’t she take a goddamned hint? There was a way to block a number, but he was way too drunk to remember how, so instead he turned off the phone and threw it on the nightstand like it was a venomous snake.

Fuck.

He collapsed back onto the bed, muttering to himself, before finally letting the alcohol in his system drag him to unconsciousness.

 

* * *

 

_Palatine, IL_

 

Sitting at her desk in her cluttered office, Leia stared down at her phone, hand trembling, and hit redial again.

It immediately rang into voicemail, damn him. He’d turned off his phone or blocked her number. She rubbed the bridge of her nose, damn it, Ben. Would it be so bad to just talk to her?

Taking a steadying breath, she hit redial and waited for it to call into the voicemail.

“Ben. I just, I wanted to call and wish you a happy birthday. And I wanted—I hoped—maybe we could talk. It’s been too long, I’d like to try to reconnect again. Just, think about it, please.”

Ending the call, she dropped her phone onto the desk and buried her face in her hands for a few minutes before taking a breath and forcing herself to focus on work. It was already after ten and she still had to finish the horse sheet for lessons tomorrow and make sure to assign riders school horses for their lessons. It was a complicated puzzle to make sure you paired riders to horses they could handle while also making sure no school horse got overworked. An extra hard task right now since she had two school horses injured and on stall rest.

It was nearly eleven when she finally finished. She debated whether she should even bother going home or just catch a few hours on the old couch in her office.

Her phone rang and her heart jumped into her throat… maybe he’d listened to her voicemail and decided to call her back…

It wasn’t his number, she sighed, squinting at the area code. 320? Where the hell even was that? After a split second of debate, she swiped accept. It would probably turn out to be a wrong number, “Leia Organa, New Republic Stables, how may I help you?”

There was silence on the other end, long enough that she was about to hang up, when a gruff, familiar voice finally spoke, “Hey, Leia.”

Her eyes fluttered closed and she took a shaky breath, “Han?”

“Yeah, it’s me… I… um... how are you?”

She sighed, not bothering to answer. If Han was calling, he had to want something from her. “I’m guessing you need something, badly. What do you want, Han?”

There was another long pause, “I… I’m going to be at Ledges next week. And then, well… we were hoping to stay in the area a couple weeks. Any chance you have some stalls we could use? Or even a paddock or something? I’ve got six horses I need to put up… I’d be able to pay you eventually but we’re a little short on cash right now...”

Of course he was. It was tempting to just tell him no. Han Solo had always been trouble, she had no doubt he still was.

Instead, she heard her voice speak softly, “I’ve got some stalls.”

“Okay… um, I really… I appreciate this, I really do, Leia.”

“We’re at Ledges next week too,” she continued, “we can discuss it more there.”

“Right. Thanks.”

The call ended and she dropped her phone onto her desk, hoping she wasn’t going to live to regret this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, collision course now set (Kylo's going to be at Ledges next week too ;) ). We'll also meet more of the New Republic crew like Rose.
> 
> Oh Han, unfortunately he has a track record of this sort of thing. We'll expand on that history eventually. 
> 
> Needless to say Kylo's relationship with his family isn't good. Hinted a bit of where the friction with Luke came from. He's also a nervous awkwards sads lonely boi. Which he is in canon too, so...
> 
> I pretty much stole the "friends slow down, even stop" line from the movie Parenthood, I admit it.
> 
> Lovey was the woman with the master codebreaker in TLJ who blows on his dice. I just was playing around with the names (master codebreaker, master of codebreaker... I know, it was a little cheesy).
> 
> Please feed me comments, they give me life and energy.


	5. Introductions and Reunions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That question—do you work—the assumption in it, rubbed her the wrong way and she gritted her teeth. He was already assuming she was help, not a rider. Fuck him.
> 
> “I don’t talk to douchebags who wear sunglasses indoors,” she gritted out. “So if you don’t mind…”
> 
> His shoulders pulled back slightly and his chin dipped again, brow furrowing, the cocky smile dropping off his face. At least it did for a moment, then he reached up and pulled his sunglasses off, hooking them onto the pocket of his expensive polo shirt. His eyes were a deep brown, with a pretty, expressive intensity to them. He flashed a smile at her, even more arrogantly this time, and she loathed to admit to herself that he was more than a little bit cute. "There, so what’s your name?”
> 
> “Still none of your business.” She tried to move past him again, and he again moved so he was in front of her. At least the smile had fallen off his face, replaced with a mixture of annoyance and anger. Rey glared, “Take a hint, I’m not interested.”
> 
> “All I’m doing is asking your name, you don’t need to be a bitch about it,” he huffed, irritated.  
> “Yeah, sorry I’m such a bitch for not throwing myself at the first pair of pretty eyes to hit on me today.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a racial epitaph is used in this chapter, for anyone overly sensitive to that. But vile small minded bigot characters behave as vile small minded bigots do. 
> 
> Thank you to ReyloRabbitTrail for betaing this chapter for me when I was worried about how large it was.

_“The horse through all its trials has preserved the sweetness of paradise in its blood.” -Johannes Jensen_

 

_June 2017  
I-90 near Madison, Wisconsin _

She was jostled awake by a particularly rough bounce of the old truck, her forehead knocking hard on the window. Han cursed under his breath next to her. Rubbing her head, she squinted out the windshield. They were pulling into a rest area, the sun just starting to come up.

“Where are we?” she asked, yawning. They’d left late last night, her and Han in the truck hauling the horses, Chewie following behind them in his old Buick.

“Wisconsin, near Madison,” Han answered. He looked glassy eyed and tired. She frowned, worried.

“Want me to drive the rest of the way?” she offered. She’d driven the trailer around Han’s property, though never with horses in it, and regularly ran errands in his truck or Chewie’s car.

“Not while hauling. Cops sometimes like to pull you over just for a safety check… not too common but—” he shrugged and she nodded. She had a driver’s license, but it was from the UK. Legal, but might lead to other questions, or searches on things like visas. “We’re only an hour, hour and a half away. If you can check the horses, me and Chewie will catch an hour and we’ll hit the road again.”

They pulled in to a mostly empty lot, just a few semis scattered about. She jumped out of the truck, stretching before scurrying off towards the building to use the bathroom. On the walk back to the truck, she took in the view, or lack of one, around her. There were farm fields, a few trees, and a septic pond off to the side. She’d passed through Wisconsin while hitchhiking west, but it had been winter, cold as fuck, and she hadn’t really paid much attention. It didn’t seem too much different from Minnesota. Maybe the terrain was just a bit flatter.

Chewie tried to help her check and water the horses, but she stubbornly shooed him away to catch a little bit of rest in his car. Han was already snoring in the truck. When she finished with the horses, she sat on a bench, closing her eyes and listening to the birds chirp. It was peaceful. She loathed to climb back into the truck again once an hour had passed.

Staring out the window as the truck radio played classic rock, the weight of what she was doing, what they were doing, hit her. Was she really going to do this? Enter Grand Prix jumpers? Had she lost her mind to even suggest something this absurd?

“So,” she shifted in her seat, “what am I going to do about show clothes? Don’t I need tall boots? And a show coat?”

“Worse comes to worse, they can’t penalize you if you showed jumpers in half chaps and a polo shirt,” Han sighed. “But I’m hoping we might be able to borrow something you can use. If you’re doing any hunters you need a set of show clothes.”

Her brow furrowed, “Borrow? From who?”

Han gave a small smile, “Friends.”

She gave him a questioning look. Friends? What friends?

“Don’t worry about it, kid, we’ll figure it out.”

Rolling her eyes, she leaned her head back on the seat and sighed.

 

* * *

 

_Roscoe, IL_

Ledges wasn’t exactly what she was expecting.

What was she expecting? Something big and grand, she guessed. From the road there was a long white stables visible, a white house with a flagpole out front. A sign in one of the two entrances to turn in had a silhouette of a jumping horse and said Sporting Horses Ledges.

The gravel drive dipped down as they passed the stables, the building itself seemed to be terraced into the hill, each aisle door was lower than the previous one. A ring with a judge’s stand next to it was off to the left, also cut into the hill with a retaining wall along the perimeter of the back third, and as they pulled to stop in a gravel lot between a pair of schooling rings, she she found herself looking at of the back of a what she thought might be a grandstand of reddish stained wood.

Chewie had parked his Buick and walked over as she and Han hopped out of the truck. Squinting up at the grandstand— it looked like there was a roofed area at the top with white patio chairs— she guessed there was a ring on the other side of it.

“Come on, kid,” Han tossed his head towards the far end of the grandstand. “Let’s check in and find out where our stalls are. Chewie’ll stay with the trailer.” He hobbled off and she took a few quick steps to catch up, frowning at his limp. It was worse than normal. Han noticed and waved his hand, “Bad leg wasn’t happy being cramped up that long is all.”

They followed a slope down from the lot, past the entrance to the first ring she’d seen. It looked like it was currently open for schooling, several horses jumping at once and kids nearly crashing into one another as they careened around. Another schooling ring appeared to be down at the bottom of the hill, and she could just see the edge of the ring on the other side of the grandstand as they reached a door at the far end of the grandstand with a printed piece of paper, curling at the edges like it had been there awhile, with “SHOW OFFICE” printed on it.

It wasn’t too big, there were tables with saddle pads and other prizes to one side, another table with various brochures and a big bowl of candy and printed copies of the show schedule in various stacks. Half the room was cordoned off by a large desk, filing cabinets behind it and a few office chairs. There was one or two people at the desk talking to one of the women behind it.

“HAN SOLO!”

The room went silent, everyone turning to look.

A small, brown skinned woman with large glasses that magnified her brown eyes beamed from behind the desk at Han, who for his part let out a small groan, “Hi, Maz.” Rey glanced at him, raising her eyebrows, as he walked over to the desk.

Maz looked down, pulling out some papers and squinting as she read what was on them, “Where’s my boyfriend?”

Rey glanced at Han quizzically, but Han was just rolling his eyes, “Chewie’s with the horses.”

“I like that man,” Maz hummed, before glancing up. “Leia knew you were coming. She asked me to put your stalls next to hers.”

Han let out a sigh, and muttered, “Of course she did.”

“Remind her that I did her a favor. I had to rework the stall assignments to fit you in that aisle,” she handed Han a sheet of paper with numbers on it, before pulling more papers out of a drawer, “How many entry blanks?”

“Six,” Han answered, handing Rey the sheet. “Rey, go give this to Chewie. Bed the stalls down and get the horses unloaded.”

The stall numbers on the sheet meant nothing to her, but Chewie nodded and motioned her to hop in the truck, moving down the far end of the stables, near a side lot with trailers parked in it. He motioned her to follow her inside the barn.

There were long rows of white planked stalls with metal gates. They were in good condition, but nothing overly fancy. Here and there she saw heavy curtains with barn logos and names embroidered on them covering the outside of a stall, sometimes with the area around it decorated with plants and benches. They reached a set of stalls with an index card with “SOLO” handwritten stapled on to the boards of the stalls. Chewie let out a surprised grunt when he saw the stalls already were bedded and had a water bucket hanging in them.

“Oh, hey!” a woman’s voice called. They glanced down to see an asian girl with short hair that curled at the edges peering out of a stall. “Leia said you were coming so we bedded the stalls down for you and put up some of our extra buckets. Hope that was okay!” Her voice had an excited but jittery lilt.

“Um, no, that’s fine. We appreciate it,” Rey called back. The girl flashed a grin before vanishing back into the stall.

They made quick work of unloading the horses. Once they were all settled in, they unloaded a few tack trunks with their gear and placed them in the aisle against the stalls. Chewie went about hanging feed buckets while she unwrapped the horse’s legs.

“Need any help?”

Rey peered out of Fonzi’s stall to see the girl from down the aisle standing there. She was wearing jeans and a yellow shirt with an orange logo and “New Republic Stables” written under it. Shaking her head, Rey exited Fonzi’s stall with an armload of standing wraps, “We’re good.”

“You sure? I’ve got a small lull till the horses come back from schooling, so if you need anything at all I’d be glad to,” she said. “Oh! And I’m Rose, sorry!

“Rey,” she offered Rose her hand before sitting on the edge of the track trunk and grabbing one of the standing wraps to roll. “Are you the groom for them then?” Rey asked, nodding down towards the stalls down the aisle.

Rose sat down on the other end of the trunk and grabbed one of the wraps, beginning to roll it out of what seemed like muscle memory than anything conscious, “Sort of. I’m chief working student and working student wrangler, I guess.” Rose giggled, “We’re kind of the weirdos here. We don’t bring grooms but have a bunch of working students who get discounts for the show bill and the trainer’s day fee waived and sometimes the use fee for the schoolies for kids that don’t have their own horses.”

She smiled, “That seems nice.”

“Only way some of those kids would be here,” Rose nodded, “And me too, honestly. Virgil eats my money.”

“Virgil?”

“My horse, come down and meet him when you’re less busy!” Rose finished rolling a second wrap and set it down on the trunk. “Do you show? I do the adult ammies and adult eq on my guy.”

“Um, well, I am showing. These guys,” she nodded towards the stalls behind them. “I haven’t really been to one of these though.”

“It’s your first show, that’s so cool! You’ll do great, I’m sure!”

The sound of hoofsteps echoing down the barn aisle had Rose leaping to her feet, Rey squinted to see a line of at least a ten horses being lead down the barn aisle single file, along with a small horde of teenagers and kids. At the very front were two adults, a handsome man who looked like he might be in his thirties, with short brown hair, and a tall, skinny woman with lavender colored hair who was older. As the horse’s were lead into their stalls, the two adults came closer.

“Look, Flyboy, feel free to sacrifice your students to the jumper gods. All I’m saying is to leave my students out of it.”

“All I’m saying is if the kid wants to do puddle jumpers, let her do puddle jumpers. I think she can handle 2’3. What’s the harm?”

“I spent the last three years of teaching her horse to slow down and be sane in the hunter ring, the last thing we need is to let him think it’s all good to run like a maniac—” the woman froze, eyes widening as she saw Chewie. “I don’t believe it.”

Chewie grinned, saying something that sounded like “Uhmlin” as the woman took several long strides forward and gripped Chewie’s arms in greeting.

“Čedomir,” she smiled, the skin around her eyes crinkling. There was a strangely elegant way to how she carried herself and spoke, “It’s been far too long.”

“I’m gonna assume that’s a friend?” the man who had been talking with her, asked, walking over. He glanced at Chewie, his brown eyes slightly wary. Rey couldn’t blame him, Chewie was a bit intimidating.

The woman rolled her eyes, releasing her grip on Chewie’s arms and stepping back, “Quite an old friend. Like dark days of Empire old.” She smirked, “Poe Dameron, this is Čedomir Bacca.”

“Chee-doe-meer?” Poe struggled out, holding out a hand.

“Just call him, Chewie,” Rey interjected.

Chewie laughed, nodding his head towards Rey, saying, she thought, “What she said.”

Poe blinked, “I… um, I didn’t quite get that.”

“What she said,” the woman replied, glancing towards Rey and extending her hand, “Amilyn Holdo.”

“Rey Smith.”

Shouldering into Holdo’s space, Poe extended his hand, casting an annoyed glance at Holdo. Rey got the sense that he might have felt like he was being ignored, “Poe Dameron. I’m the head jumper trainer at New Republic.”

Holdo turned her head to give him a scathing look, “Did you actually just introduce yourself as ‘head jumper trainer’ to someone?”

He bristled, “That’s what I am, so yeah, I did.”

“It’s… um, okay. Should I call you Poe? Or Mr. Dameron?” Rey wasn’t quite sure what to make of these two.

“Just call him ‘Flyboy’,” Holdo responded before Poe could get his mouth open, a coy smirk on her face.

Poe shot her a cold look before shooting a charming smile at Rey, “Just Poe is fine. So you’re the friends Leia said were going to be here. Was wondering what that was about.”

“Wait—Leia knew about this and didn’t tell me? Oh, we’re going to have to have a talk later,” Holdo smirked, glancing at Chewie. “Is _he_ here?”

Chewie just laughed in response.

Holdo shook her head and smiled, “The return of Han Solo. We’re all in trouble now.”

 

* * *

 

Holdo and Poe vanished after a bit, but New Republic’s space in the barn aisle seemed to be always busy, and she watched idly as riders ducked in and out of a stall covered with curtains that were light yellow with orange trim. She suspected this must be a place to change, maybe hang out. Part of her was curious and wanted to walk down and peek, another part of her felt like that would be invading space that she didn’t belong in. The latter won out, and she just sat on one of the trunks next to Falcon’s stall, leaning her head back against the stall wall and waiting for Han.

Han met them back in the barn maybe a half hour later, checking on the horses to make sure they’d been settled in a way that was satisfactory to him. He had several entry blanks in his hand as he leaned over one of the trunks to fill them out.

“I hate that they do the jumpers in meters now,” he lamented in a grumble. “What the hell was wrong with listing things in feet?”

Peering down at the entry forms, trying to see what he was writing, Rey smiled, “Meters work better for me.”

“You Brits, give us a fine measuring system and then ditch us for for the hot new thing when those Europeans handed you metric.”

That got a laugh out of her, and a smile cracked Han’s serious face and he shot her a quick wink before paying attention back to the forms. “Not going to enter anything today, want the horses to settle and we’ll school them after things wrap up tonight.” He squinted at the form, “.07 meters… that’s what, 2’3?”

“About,” she answered after a quick conversion in her head.

“‘Kay, so you and Fonzi’ll do puddle jumpers then. 2’3 is good for his first real show.” Han tapped the end of the pen against his teeth, “Van, let’s keep it at 3’ for this one. Maybe Low and Non-Thoroughbred.” Continuing to study the entry blanks, shook his head, “Wish you could do ammys. Not going to get away with it if your riding in the Grand Prix.”

“Get away with it? Ammy is amateur?” she frowned, puzzled. She sure felt like an amateur.

“Yeah, rules are fucknuts on that. If you get paid to groom, you’re a pro. Paid to ride, even just if you’re hacking, you’re a pro. Kind of bullshit. I always hated the ammy rules. They give me a headache.”

“I’m a professional?” She couldn’t help but be amused, that just seemed absurd.

“In the eyes of the USEF you are,” Han sighed. “Okay, so, Van in lows and non-tb. Tie, let’s do modified adult and schooling. Those are 2’6. That’s reasonable. They got a Maiden and a Limit division, so let’s do Bell in Limit and 2’0 hunters. Prom…” Frowning, Han glanced at her, “Not sure, maybe we should just do the hack with her. She’s awfully green still. And she spazzed at the saddle club show.”

“I wouldn’t mind trying, we’ve gotten her over a few courses now,” she shrugged. “What’s the worst that happens? She’s a spaz and I get disqualified or bow out?”

Han sighed, “All right. We’ll give maiden hunters a try. That’s 2’. The Grand Prix is tomorrow night, and kid, I know you want win, but seriously, it’s about the experience for you. Get over the course, don’t worry about placing. We’re gonna stay ‘round here most of the summer, you’ll get another shot.”

When she just frowned and bit her lip in response, Han gave her a look, “Kid, not dying or breaking my horse are your primary goals. It ain’t that big of a grand prix here, fifteen grand. There’s bigger ones in the next few mon—”

A woman’s voice floated down the aisle and Han froze mid-word, tensing and eyes widening.

“There are 54 entries in Limit right now, I swear if they don’t split that class I’m going to go have a talk with show management. That’s completely ridiculous.”

A woman with greying brown hair tied up in a bun was walking down the aisle, squinting down at a sheet of paper in her hands. She stopped in the middle of New Republic’s section of the aisle, “Rose? Make sure you have this afternoon covered by some of the other girls, your first class is probably going to be—” she tapped down the paper, appearing to be doing some sort of calculation, “I’d say sometime around two. I should—” The woman glanced up and her words faded as she saw Han.

The two stared at each other before slowly approaching, stopping with six feet of space between them. Rey leaned against Falcon’s door, not wanting to intrude.

“Changed your hair,” Han mumbled.

The woman crossed her arms over her chest, “Same jacket.”

Han huffed in offense, pulling on the front of his leather jacket, “No. New jacket.”

Chewie walked over, grinning, and bent down to hug the woman. She smiled and let him envelop her. When he pulled back, he murmured something before walking away and giving the two of them space.

“I, um,” Han shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced over at Rey. “Leia, this is my working student, Rey Smith. Rey, this is, uh… well this is Leia.”

“Leia Organa,” the woman offered with a smile. “I run the madhouse,” she nodded towards New Republic’s stalls. Her brown eyes were gentle, kind, but strangely shrewd. As if she was constantly sizing up the situation. “Nice to meet you, Rey.” Leia nodded, but when her attention flashed back to Han, she saw her eyebrows raise questioningly, pursing her lips before glancing over her shoulder, “Hey, Rose?”

Rose popped her head out of the curtained stall, “Right here.”

“Things seem pretty calm right now, why don’t you take a half hour and show Rey around the grounds? I’m pretty sure she’s never been to Ledges before.”

“I… uh, okay,” Rose answered, looking rather confused as she stepped out into the aisle and walked over. Leia turned her gaze back to Han, and the two just stared at each other.

Glancing between the two of them, Rose looked at her and raised her eyebrows, shrugging, as if to say she wasn’t sure what the hell was going on. “Come on, I’ll give you the grand tour.”

 

* * *

 

Rose lead her out a side door with a steep ramp to the parking lot.

“So… you have any idea what that’s about?” Rose asked. “Who was that guy?”

“Not really, and that’s Han, I work for him,” Rey answered, skidding down the ramp the last foot or so to the white gravel of the parking lot. They wove between cars as Rose lead her towards the grandstand.

“They seem to know each other…”

It was pretty clear Rose was trying to troll for some answers of how Han and Leia knew each other. She shook her head, “I don’t know anything about it. He mentioned something about having friends here.”

Rose paused, “Seemed tense for meeting an old buddy.” She motioned to the schooling rings in front of the grandstand. “So, jumper schooling ring.” Turning she walked down along a path that lead past the end of the grandstand. An in gate to a ring was right in front of them, and she turned, following the front of the grandstand along the fence. Rey paused, looking up. It wasn’t huge, but the wood bleachers rose up like giant steps, a few people were scattered about watching. Above that was the second level under a white roof.

There looked to be two rings. This one was the jumpers, the fences were brightly colored though only set probably at .75 meters right now… around what she’d be doing with Fonzi tomorrow. She felt a wave of nerves hit her, the ring was a lot bigger than the one at the saddle club show and there were an awful lot of jumps.

Noticing a bank attached to the side of the ring, with a ramp leading up and a drop leading down. It appeared to be blocked off. She poked Rose on the shoulder, “Do they use the bank?”

“Not really. They used to back in the day… and Poe says they used to have a jump up instead of the ramp. But I’ve never seen it used anymore.” Rose lead her past the jumper ring, where a grey was now navigating the course. “So when the ring is split, this side is jumpers, and this side,” they paused in front of the next ring, “is hunters and eq. This is the bigger hunter ring, the other one is a little smaller.”

“What do you mean ‘when the ring is split’?” Rey asked as she watched a horse and rider in the ring navigating the much more subdued, at least color wise, jumps.

“The fence between them is removable. They do that for the bigger classes, like the Grand Prix or the hunter derbies. Or for the medal finals at the end of the year.”

“Oh,” she choked out, looking away from Rose and across the expanse of the two rings. It was big, very big. The course for the Grand Prix was going to be huge.

This whole thing had been a very bad idea.

Rose continued her tour, pointing out the show office and the hunter schooling ring and the smaller hunter ring— the one she noticed when they had drove in.

Across from the show office was a small.wood building that looked like it was some kind of fancy storage shed. But the door was open and a sign was out front that said “Andrew Ryback Photography.”

“Oh, let’s stop a minute, I want to see if there are any pics of me and Virgil from yesterday,” Rose said, before ducking into the shed. Rey followed, awkwardly stepping over a corgi that was sleeping just in front of the doorway. There was a desk on the far end, pictures in different formats— examples of products they offered, she guessed. Along one wall was a long table with four computers and plastic chairs.

After looking around, she drifted over to stand behind Rose, who was already clicking through a folder of photos.

“Okay, we can burn this one.”

Rey squinted at the screen at the picture of Rose jumping a very large liver chestnut. It was pretty obvious that they’d gotten to a bad spot, the horse twisting awkwardly to get to the otherside, and Rose’s eyes closed while making a face that indicated she thought she was about to die.

She almost commented on how she probably made that face a lot too, then decided they didn’t know each other well enough yet. “Bad timing on the part of the photographer.”

Rose snorted, “Bad timing on my part. Virgil saved my ass on that jump.” She tapped the keyboard to move to the next picture of the two of them taking an angle jump. “This isn’t bad.”

Leaning forward, Rey smiled, “That one is quite nice. Virgil’s cute.” He was a little big and lanky, but muscled out nicely and his coat shined. He was clearly gigantic though, Rose looked like a dwarf on his back.

“I know, he’s too big for me, but I love him and he’s a good boy, so screw the aesthetics of how we look together.”

“You look fine together. Who even cares about that?” Rey shook her head. It seemed silly.

“Judges do.” Rose sighed, getting up. “Asshole railbirds do. I’ve overheard people scoffing more times than I can recall.”

“Ah… well, fuck them.”

Rose laughed, “You say the f-word so elegantly with your accent. But yeah.” She turned and lead out the door, “Anyway, most important stop… where you get food here. I’ll buy you a breakfast sandwich. They make the best breakfast sandwiches. Hopefully by then your friend and Leia will have worked out whatever was going on there, and it’ll be safe to go back to the barn.”

 

* * *

 

As she followed Rose up to a building at the front of the property— the house she’d seen from the road, she realized as they approached— she took everything around her. Horses were all over, moving between the barn and the schooling ring, between the schooling rings and the show rings. Every horse was meticulously groomed, every one was shiny and healthy, trimmed and clipped. Mexican grooms held horses and helped riders mount, buffing their boots with rags before they rode off. People hurried back and forth, either wearing show clothes or dressed in clothes that cost more than every piece of clothing she’d ever owned put together.

It all screamed money and put her ill at ease. This was a world she didn’t really belong in.

There was nothing fancy about the concessionary. Several tables were scattered across a room. Another table on the far wall served to hold condiments and coffee, along with plastic forks and napkins. A counter with an old register was in the back, and behind it in the corner there was a griddle and a fryer.

“Coffee?” Rose asked, getting into line. “Bacon breakfast sandwich good?”

“Yes, and that’s fine.” Rey paused, “I can pay for mine, you don’t have to—”

“Nah, this is on Leia,” Rose insisted, stepping to the counter and ordering two coffees and two bacon, egg, and cheese sandwiches. “Put it on New Republic’s tab, please.”

A gruff lady behind the counter grabbed a notebook and paged through it, “Name?”

“Rose Tico.”

The lady wrote something down in the notebook and then shoved two coffee cups at Rose, who headed over to the coffee pot to fill them up.

“So, what’s your story?” Rose glanced up from adding two sugar packets to her cup, and promptly snorted at the amount of cream and sugar Rey was adding to hers.

“Story?” Rey took a sip of the coffee, grimacing. Not right yet. She added another two sugar packets and a healthy splash of cream. “Um… not much of one. Was a foster kid. Turned 18 and jumped the Atlantic to see the States. Spent some time slumming around the east coast before hitchhiking west and getting stranded in Minnesota where I met Han. He offered me a job.” She took another sip. There, that was tolerable. “What about you?”

Rose shrugged, “Live with my sister in Wheeling. Going to school for mechanical engineering, and working part time doing maintenance, and working the rest of the time at the barn to get a discount on Virgil’s board. I blew most of my money buying him. My sister nearly killed me when she found out I bought a horse.”

“Not a horse person?”

“Paige?” Rose smiled, “Oh no, Paige adores horses. We were working students together when we were kids, since our parents didn’t have money to get us lessons. She’s just the sensible one, and thought it was a bad idea to buy one until I graduated and had a job that could actually pay for keeping one. She stopped riding to focus on work. I don’t know how she could do that without losing her mind, I sure couldn’t.”

The door opened and there was a spate of giggles as three teenage girls packed together walked in. They were in their breeches and show shirts, and wearing parlanti tall boots. Next to her she heard Rose mutter “fuck” under her breath.

“Oh, New Republic trash,” the oldest girl smirked maliciously at Rose. She was tall and leggy with blonde shoulder length hair and blue eyes that were filled with scorn. “They’re just letting this place go to shit, aren’t they?”

Rey rolled her eyes towards them. The leader of the pack was maybe a year or two younger than Rey was. The others probably fifteen or sixteen. Her lackeys went into a spate of giggles, and she glanced at Rey, eyes scanning her condescendingly. “Who’s your friend, Dwosie? Another Organa pity case?” She snorted, eyes glancing at the three buns Rey’s hair was tied into, “And what the fuck is with her hair?”

“None of your fucking business,” Rey answered, sipping her coffee. The trio blinked in surprise at her accent, and the lead bitch’s eyes narrowed at her. “That would be the answer to the first question. Oh, and go fuck yourself would be the answer to the last one.”

Rose was clearly annoyed, but peered over her coffee cup at the girls, doing her best to appear aloof, “Ruin another horse yet with your shitty riding, Vanessa?” Leaning on the counter, Rose gave a small, slightly mean smile, “Went through two last year, didn’t you?”

Vanessa’s hands tightened into fists, and she flashed her teeth in an aggressive smile, “Well, some of us can afford a horse that fits us, instead of bobbing around on that lanky piece of shit you own like a fucking munchkin. Though it’s not like finding a horse the right size for you would be easy, you fucking chink dwarf, maybe a shetland?”

Hands clenching at her side, Rey’s entire body tensed, actively debating if punching this bitch would be worth the consequences. Rose must have sensed it because her hand reached over and grabbed Rey’s shoulder to hold her back. “Trust me, First Order assholes are not worth the effort.”

“TICO,” the lady called from the counter, slamming two sandwiches down and glaring between them and the little teenage bitch trio. Clearly worried they were going to cause a scene. Rose shoved her way past Vanessa, grabbing the sandwiches and walking out the door without looking back. Rey followed, and once they were outside, Rose shoved one of the sandwiches into her hand while unwrapping her own and taking a big bite.

“Sorry about that. First Order assholes, fuck them.”

“What the fuck was their problem?”

Rose smirked, “They’re rich entitled bitches, that’s all. First Order is like that. Place is owned by the devil and filled with spawn of satan.”

“Owned by the devil?” she gave Rose a weird look as she took a bite of her sandwich. Holy fuck, she groaned, it was greasy deliciousness. “Okay, this is amazing,” she muttered.

“Yeah, they’re the best, I could live on these,” Rose waved her own sandwich. “And yeah, First Order is owned by Silas Snoke. Guy is evil. Really evil.” She lead them into a different barn aisle, walking past a row of wash stalls.

“What do you mean?”

“Snoke made his fortune scamming people, especially women. He’d talk them into buying poor quality horses he’d claim were expensive show horse them, plus then he and his cronies bleed them for every penny he could get with fake charges on board and training and vet. Most people think he was involved in the Elena Barat— the Barat candy heiress— disappearance years ago. She figured out what he was doing and was going to go to the police. People say she was buried under the concrete of one of the barn aisles at his old stable in Morton Grove.”

Rey gave Rose a look, raising her eyebrows, “Uh…”

“Yeah, it’s fucked up. Nowadays he’s just positioning himself and his farm to be the next Empire.”

“Uh? Empire?”

“Oh, man, you don’t know the history at all, eh?” Rose grinned. “Empire Stables. Palpatine was like the horse mafia, controlled the entire horse scene in this area by terrorizing or killing anyone that refused him. Long story.”

“This all sounds kind of crazy and weird.”

They stopped by the door to the indoor arena, which was large and especially long. “It is,” Rose agreed. “Anyway, indoor. This is the only grounds that holds winter shows around here.” She glanced at her cell phone, “And I really better get back and make sure the minions aren’t slacking off.”

“I’m going to peek around,” Rey smiled, “I’ll find my way back.”

Rose raised her coffee in response before darting off. Rey shook her head, checking out the indoor. Walking down a row of stalls along a side fence of the ring. After about five minutes of prowling, she started trying to figure out her way back. Turning down a narrow connecting hall and into a barn aisle—

And directly into a very hard and firm body. Squawking, she stumbled, nearly falling, but two large hands caught her by the shoulders and hauled her upright. Looking up… really looking up, how tall was this asshole? She squinted into the face of the person she’d just crashed into like an idiot. He had prominent chin and nose and full lips, with black hair that hung past his ears, held down by a cap he was wearing. She couldn’t tell his eye color because he was wearing douchebag mirror sunglasses. Inside. Who the fuck wore sunglasses inside? His chin was tilted down nearly to his chest to look at her, making her feel ridiculously smaller than she was, and coupled with not being able to see his eyes to read his expression, it was making her nervous.

She pulled herself out of his grasp, “Sorry. My fault.” Her eyes darted to his hat, trying to find somewhere to look away from his face, and she saw the words _First Order Farm_ embroidered across the black cap in red, along with a logo that looked like a monster’s gaping round mouth full of teeth. Fuck. Great. That barn again.

“It’s okay,” his voice was low and softer than she expected. His head tilted down and then back up, and she shifted uncomfortably. Could he have been more obvious that he was checking her out? “Lost?”

Folding her arms across her chest defensively, she shook her head, “Just wandering. Sorry again. I’ll be going.” She moved to step around him but he took a step back and over to block her. Glaring, “Um, do you mind?”

“What’s your name?” he shot her a smile that was slightly cocky. “You work for one of the barns here?”

That question—do you work—the assumption in it, rubbed her the wrong way and she gritted her teeth. He was already assuming she was help, not a rider. Fuck him.

“I don’t talk to douchebags who wear sunglasses indoors,” she gritted out. “So if you don’t mind…”

His shoulders pulled back slightly and his chin dipped again, brow furrowing, the cocky smile dropping off his face. At least it did for a moment, then he reached up and pulled his sunglasses off, hooking them onto the pocket of his expensive polo shirt. His eyes were a deep brown, with a pretty, expressive intensity to them. He flashed a smile at her, even more arrogantly this time, and she loathed to admit to herself that he was more than a little bit cute. "There, so what’s your name?”

“Still none of your business.” She tried to move past him again, and he again moved so he was in front of her. At least the smile had fallen off his face, replaced with a mixture of annoyance and anger. Rey glared, “Take a hint, I’m not interested.”

“All I’m doing is asking your name, you don’t need to be a bitch about it,” he huffed, irritated.

“Yeah, sorry I’m such a bitch for not throwing myself at the first pair of pretty eyes to hit on me today.”

He snorted, “Don’t fucking flatter yourself, you’re not that hot.”

She gritted her teeth together and shoved past him.

“Yeah, fuck you too,” he called as she walked down the aisle and didn’t look back.

 

* * *

 

The fuck was her problem?

Kylo glared down the aisle as the girl vanished, fists clenched at his side. Fucking bitch. He had been nice, there was no reason for her to be an asshole to him. He turned and headed the other way down the barn aisle, wondering why the hell he’d even started talking to some random chick that apparently couldn’t watch the fuck where she was going.

Something about her accent, British, she’d sounded British, and her odd hair, and that she was a little cute. Young, but cute. Not cute enough to have that kind of attitude though.

But it had been almost impulsive, which he almost never was around women.

A black head appeared over a stall gate, hay hanging from her forelock down across right eye. She nickered, ears alert and eyes fixed on him, and he smiled, walking over and brushing the hay away.

“My girl,” he murmured, undoing the chain on the stall gate and walking in to Silencer’s stall. She immediately began to nuzzle at his pockets, looking for treats. “I should know by now you’re the only girl I should talk to.” Fumbling into his pocket, he pulled out a peppermint, keeping it in his fist as he unwrapped it to keep the horse from snatching it plastic and all. Holding it out, she flapped her lips at it once before she reached it and pulled it gently from his fingers.

He sighed, calming down a bit as Silencer nuzzled and licked his shirt, leaving a sticky wet spot on his shoulder.

Being here had him on edge. Ledges had never been his favorite place. Too small, too congested, the barns always felt claustrophobic to him. It also seemed like he’d spent a good portion of his childhood here, and there were a lot of memories tied up in this place, not all of which were good. His parents first time breaking up, at least the first time he was old enough to be aware of it, happened in one of these aisles with a throw down screaming match at one another. He’d hid in his pony’s stall and cried into his mane, sure that his daddy was never coming back.

Looking back, it probably would have been better for them all if he hadn’t. But Han had come back eventually, and Leia always took him back. They’d get along for awhile and then be back at each other’s throats.

When he was twelve they broke up in another fight here, during a winter series show, in the schooling ring in front of everyone. Eventually two wary stewards had intervened and asked them to leave. He’d been completely mortified and embarrassed by his parents and more upset with them screaming at each other publicly than at the prospect of them separating. He’d taken champion in the children’s equitation division, but they weren’t there to see it.

So there were more than a few bad memories, but he knew that wasn’t what had him so anxious.

 _She_ was here. Which really in itself wasn’t uncommon. New Republic went to most of the same shows First Order did. He managed to avoid his mother over the last few years showing, even here, where it was hard to do, but up till last week he’d assumed she didn’t want to see him either. Or at least that she respected the fact that he didn’t want to see her.

One phone call—well, actually several phone calls, he still wasn’t even sure how long she kept trying after he turned his phone off and drunkenly passed out—had made it clear she wanted to talk to him again. Which meant she could try to seek him out here. She might actually try to talk to him.

Just the thought made it feel like it was hard to breath. He took a shaky breath and pressed his face against Silencer’s neck. She turned her head and pulled at the sleeve to his polo shirt. He smiled, silly horse.

He probably should go back to the hotel and try to get his shit together. None of his horses were going until tomorrow. Hux and Phasma would probably find it odd since he tended to be the first one there at a show and the last one to leave, but he could pass it off that he wasn’t feeling well.

Giving Silencer one last scritch under her mane, he exited the stall and shut the gate behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one really thought that the first meeting between those two would go smooth, did they?
> 
> Hope you're enjoying meeting Rose, Holdo, Poe, and Maz. :)
> 
> I never thought about how hard it is to describe Ledges. Especially how the barns are terraced. Couldn't find a picture of it to share, but if I show Arti at the B show in May I'll have to take some photos to try to give a sense of the feel of the place. 
> 
> I did find a shot of the bleachers/grandstand if you're [interested](http://www.chicagoequestrian.com/images/news/image_2015092807184381.JPG).
> 
> So my Snoke is somewhat of a hybrid between [Silas Jayne](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Silas_Jayne) and [Richard Bailey](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Helen_Brach#Richard_Bailey_and_the_horse_racket_connection). Both were very evil real life Chicago horsemen back in the day. 
> 
> I am blatantly paralleling the Helen Brach disappearance and murder in there as part of Snoke's history that Rose tells Rey. And people used to joke all the time that Brach was buried under C barn at Bailey's old barn in Morton Grove (which was where I started to ride when I was eleven, owned by Bailey's very nuts ex-wife Eunice by then).
> 
> FYI, the breakfast sandwiches at the concession at Ledges _are_ amazing. The coffee, eh, not so much, but you make do ;)


	6. Show Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prom spun and then threw herself into reverse, she wrestled the horse back under control, turning her in a small circle before glaring at the man, “Sorry, my horse spooked at…”
> 
> “If you can’t control that… thing… you’re riding maybe you shouldn’t be out here,” he spat at her, his blue eyes looking her up and down once before giving her a contemptuous sneer that made her suddenly feel very aware of her too big show coat and slightly too short boots. She didn’t have much time to dwell on that self consciousness though, as anger slowly took over.
> 
> Did he really just call her horse a “thing”?
> 
> “I can control my horse just fine.” She glared down at the redhead. Who the hell did this guy think he was?
> 
> “Spook’s happen.” Her eyes snapped away from the redhead to the voice. The woman on the chestnut was staring down at the redhead in an annoyed but wary way, “We’re both okay. She’s sorry. Let it go, Hux.”
> 
> The redhead— Hux, apparently— didn’t break his scornful glare from Rey. “You’re fucking lucky nothing happened to him. My horse is worth more than you, those hand me down clothes, and that nag put together. “

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mini Glossary and some links
> 
>  
> 
> [Warmblood](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Warmblood)
> 
>  
> 
> "Quarter" short for Quarter Horse, Appendix short for Appendix Quarter Horse - [Quarter Horses](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/American_Quarter_Horse)
> 
>  
> 
> [Thoroughbred](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thoroughbred)

_There is something about jumping a horse over a fence, something that makes you feel good. Perhaps it’s the risk, the gamble. In any event, it’s a thing I need._

_– William Faulkner_

 

_June 2017_

_Rockford, IL_

They got a room at a Days Inn in Rockford, about a 20 minute drive from showgrounds. Most of the New Republic folks stayed in Beloit, just over the border into Wisconsin, since it was closer. But it was also more expensive, which she assumed was why Han had opted for Rockford instead.

  
It wasn’t the best looking area or the best looking motel, but it was a roof. She and Han crashed on lumpy beds while Chewie slept on an air mattress on the floor. Chewie had insisted she take the bed, despite her protests.

She was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillows, and when the alarm started going off at 4:30am, she still felt like she hadn’t slept at all.

 

* * *

 

_Roscoe, IL_

A mist hung over the grounds at Ledges in the weak morning light. Everyone at the grounds were workers— grooms, trainers, braiders. Chewie took each horse out and lunged them burn off the extra excited energy they all had. Every single horse had been wild last night when they schooled them, excited and nervous by the new, strange surroundings. She and Chewie formed an assembly line, she hosed down the horse he just brought back to rinse the sweat from their coat and cool them down, then got the next horse ready for him to take when he’d return and hand her another hot, sweaty horse to take care of.

Rose was the first from New Republic to arrive, coming in around 5:45 am with two groggy teenagers in tow. Rey was too busy to do anymore than wave. Rose waved back before setting the two teens to work mucking stalls while she fed the New Republic horses.

Leia, Amilyn, and Poe arrived not long after. Poe and Amilyn taking horses out to lunge while Leia filled out white board. As Rey put Van away, she snuck a curious glance to see the woman was filling out a massive schedule of when various horses and riders needed to be ready their classes, along with notes on what trainer should be at what ring. Poe was mainly at the jumper ring, Amilyn at the large or small hunter ring, and Leia seemed to be running between all three rings depending on what horses were showing.

As she closed the gate to Van’s stall, Leia glanced her direction and Rey swore her eyes focused on her like a hawk on prey. “You.” Leia pointed at her with the whiteboard marker, “A moment, please.”

“I, um,” Rey said, feeling frozen in place and strangely intimidated. For a small woman, Leia had a hell of a lot of presence.

“I need to have a word with you,” Leia snapped the cap back on the whiteboard marker, nodding her head towards the curtained stall before turning and walking into it, not looking back to see if Rey was moving to follow.

  
Warily, Rey followed the woman. The stall had a few tack trunks and a bunch of camp chairs in it, a table with snacks along one wall and a cooler under it. A hideous green rug with a blue and red floral pattern through it was on the floor and a clothes rack with show coats and shirts was in the corner.

As soon as Rey entered Leia turned and pulled the ties holding the curtains open for the door so they fell shut, then turned and folded her arms across her chest, heaving out a sighing breath, “So.”

Rey shifted from foot to foot, nervous and waiting for Leia to continue.

“I don’t have all the details from Han, which is probably best. I assume he’s in trouble.” The woman’s brown eyes assessed her sternly.

She frowned but kept silent. Whatever Han wanted to share was up to Han.

“He told me you’re going to be showing his horses,” Leia said, curtly.

“Yes…”

Leia’s jaw tensed, “And he told me about this _insane_ , _harebrained_ plan for you to ride Falcon in the _grand prix_.”

“Ah, um,” Rey felt like cringing under Leia’s stern glare, “well, yes.”

Another heavy sigh escaped Leia while her eyes rolled back, “Oh lord.”

That reaction seemed a bit over the top. She had jumped him at home over courses that size… okay, _a_ course that size, but still, “It’s my decision, I want to—”

“Rey, I know I don’t know you—” Leia’s voice softened slightly.

“No, you don’t,” she crossed her arms, feeling suddenly defensive. Why did this woman think any of this was her business, anyway?

“—but I would like you to reconsider this. You’re going to get yourself hurt,” Leia shook her head, and raised a hand when Rey started to try to speak in her defense. “There’s no forgiveness on courses at that level. All it takes is the wrong mistake and you’re in the hospital. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I know what I’m doing,” she glared down at Leia. “How can you judge what I do or don’t know if you’ve never seen me ride?”

Leia made an exasperated noise and looked away before sighing, “I see why you get on with Han, you’re as stubborn as he is. Fine, at least I tried.” She sighed before glancing Rey up and down, “He also mentioned you need some show clothes?”

Rey felt her cheeks heat up, “I have good enough breeches but no shirt and coat, or tall boots.”

“Hrmmm,” Leia turned and walked over to the clothes rack in the corner. “I keep extras for the kids that can’t afford to get a set.” She pulled a navy coat off the rack holding it up and squinting between it and Rey before handing it over, “Try that.”

Throwing it on over her t-shirt, felt weird, but it seemed to fit well, maybe a smidge too big, but good enough she guessed. Leia pulled a white shirt with wrap around collar and handed it over, “Try that one when you get a chance later to be sure, but I’m pretty sure it’ll work. Now boots…” She squinted down at Rey’s legs before turning and nodding at Rey to follow before walking out into the aisle.

Rey followed Leia into the parking lot and to a dusty grey SUV parked next to the barn. Leia popped open the trunk hatch and pulled out a boot bag from the back corner. She unzipped it, shaking her head, “I think they might be a bit short, but they’ll probably work to get you through this show.” She pulled out a pair of field boots that looked old and well broken in, but still in very good shape. Rey blinked as she pulled the show coat and shirt from her and handed her a boot. There was no zipper.

“They’re old school,” Leia looked amused as she handed over a pair of boot hooks. “Custom vogels. Had them since I was younger than you.”

Leaning against the car, Rey awkwardly worked to pull the boot on to get a sense if it would fit okay. The leather was supple and lovely, “These are yours? I don’t… I mean you don’t need them?”

“I’ve moved on to the modern age,” Leia smiled, “but keep those around as back up. I’m paranoid, always sure one day I’ll have a zipper failure and they’ll save me.”

The boot stuck slightly as she pulled it on, and Leia bent down and helped her get it on the rest of the way. It clung to her leg like a second skin, and the foot felt like it fit okay. Leia nodded, “Took short, but not enough that you won’t get away with it.” She pulled a bootjack out of the boot bag and helped her balance as she worked the boot back off.

“Are you sure?” Rey asked as she balanced on one foot while trying to slip her foot back into her shoe.

Leia waved dismissively as she shut the hatch to the SUV, “Though I’m going to ask you again to reconsider the Grand Prix. I’m guessing this is an attempt to help Han out of a financial mess he’s gotten himself into, but sending a retired twenty three year old thoroughbred and a green rider into a Grand Prix ring isn’t the way to do it. That might work in the movies, it doesn’t work in real life.”

Heat rushed into her cheeks again, “I am not a green rider.”

Leia took a deep breath, her eyes rolling up towards the sky as if asking for divine intervention to handle her exasperation.

“I’m not!” Rey huffed. “I’ve been riding horses since I was a kid.” She had been, perhaps not well, but she’d sat on just about anything and everything sound Plutt had come through his yard.

“You’ve never shown before,” Leia shook her head, dismissively. “That in itself makes you green. I’ve known plenty of riders who were the best of the best at home and turned into quivering mass of nerves once they entered a show ring.” Leia glanced at her watch, “I need to get back to work, as I said, please reconsider, for your own safety.” She shoved the show coat and shirt back into Rey’s arms before turning to walk back into the barn, “And try on that shirt, if it doesn’t fit I’ve got a few others to try.”

Rey frowned, her nerves starting to jump as she watched Leia vanish into the barn, wondering once again what she’d gotten herself into.

 

* * *

 

The hunter schooling ring was utter chaos.

Horses were flying every which direction, trainers stood in the middle by the warm up jumps screaming instructions at their riders. It was hard to tell where people were going and it made passing difficult since you never knew when a horse might come careening your direction, and circling was impossible with horses coming at the warm up jumps from each way.

Prom was not making any of it easier.

So far they’d spooked at the tractor parked between the small hunter ring and the schooling ring. Shied from invisible demons in corners of the ring. Threw a gigantic buck when she asked her to canter.

Perhaps she’d been overly ambitious in pushing Han to show the mare over fences.

The flat class was first, at least. If Promise really acted like an idiot they still could scratch her from the over fences classes.

More people were tricking into the schooling ring, but her focus was on keeping Prom under control so she didn’t pay much attention beyond spatial awareness so she wouldn’t crash into anyone. They picked up a canter and Prom bounced and crowhopped, anything other than moving forward. Gathering the reins in one hand she gave the mare a smack with her bat, eliciting a very impressive buck before the mare accelerated. After a brief fight she got Prom back in her hand and the mare settled, actually cantering fairly smoothly. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad—

In a dizzying blur Prom spun away from the rail, where a child had just gone running by, veering into the center of the ring. She caught a flash of chestnut coming at them—a horse that had been jumping who’s path they had just spooked into—and for a panicked second was sure they were about to crash into each other. The rider on the chestnut managed to check her horse hard and jerk him sideways. From her peripheral vision she saw the chestnut spin and rear.

“Motherfucker,” she heard the woman hiss as she rode out the rear. The horse came down and immediately went backwards, rearing again as his rider dug her spurs into his sides and cracked him once with her whip. “Don’t you even, asshole. I’ll kick the shit out of you, I don’t care who's watching.”

All around them the ring had come to a dead stop. Everyone halting until things were back under control.

For a brief moment she managed to bring Prom back under control and to a halt, until a red faced, red headed man came charging over, setting the mare off again as he screamed, “The fuck you think you’re doing cutting my horse off like that!?”

Prom spun and then threw herself into reverse, she wrestled the horse back under control, turning her in a small circle before glaring at the man, “Sorry, my horse spooked at…”

“If you can’t control that… thing… you’re riding maybe you shouldn’t be out here,” he spat at her, his blue eyes looking her up and down once before giving her a contemptuous sneer that made her suddenly feel very aware of her too big show coat and slightly too short boots. She didn’t have much time to dwell on that self consciousness though, as anger slowly took over.

Did he really just call her horse a “thing”?

“I can control my _horse_ just fine.” She glared down at the redhead. Who the hell did this guy think he was?

“Spook’s happen.” Her eyes snapped away from the redhead to the voice. The woman on the chestnut was staring down at the redhead in an annoyed but wary way, “We’re both okay. She’s sorry. Let it go, Hux.”

The redhead— Hux, apparently— didn’t break his scornful glare from Rey. “You’re fucking lucky nothing happened to him. My horse is worth more than you, those hand me down clothes, and that nag put together. “

She stared down in disbelief that anyone could be that rude, “ _Excuse me_?”

Hux sneered at her but didn’t answer, turning instead to bark orders at the woman and the chestnut before stalking back towards the middle of the ring and the schooling jumps. The woman glanced at her, raising her eyebrows in what seemed almost like an indifferent apology, before pushing the chestnut into a trot again.

As the ring came back to life around them, she walked Prom back to the rail, stroking the mare’s neck as they went.

 

* * *

 

Anytime he left the barn he felt like a prey animal waiting to be attacked, skittish and watching his surroundings. It was embarrassing, he had to get his shit under control. He had horses showing today, and horses to ride. Most of his hunters were ridden by pro-riders, but he still had to be there to coach and watch. He also had a few young jumpers he was bringing up that he was riding later, Silencer in the grand prix tonight, and Retribution…

He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Retribution had come in with a reputation as being a difficult ride. He’d shown through the greens with his last barn and caught Snoke’s eye for good reason. The horse could be completely spectacular and had an impressive record in First Year Green and Second Year Green Hunters. But the gelding was also very temperamental and seemed to only like certain people. At First Order the people Retribution liked seemed limited to Kylo. They’d attempted to show him twice with Phasma on board and it had been an utter disaster. This show he opted to suck it up and ride the horse himself, just in low performance hunters this show. If it worked out he’d move the horse into the high performance hunters the next show and keep riding the gelding himself.

Slipping out of the barn, he squinted in the bright light and pulled his sunglasses from his polo shirt pocket and put them on. He glanced around once, cautiously, before heading down towards the small hunter ring. Not far from the in gate, Phasma attempting to keep Absolution walking in a circle around one of the planter boxes, waiting for the grounds crew to finish dragging the ring. The gelding was being an utter dick about it, jigging and throwing his head. Not much of a surprise, the chestnut hanoverian was a nice looking horse but a complete asshole. He’d been more than happy when Hux had taken the job of trying to train that horse—had even been ready to fight Kylo to get Abs in his string. One long look as the horse was unloaded from the trailer told Kylo enough to know the horse was going to be one endless headache.

“He’s all yours,” he’d told Hux, who he was sure saw the same issues, but the arrogant ass assumed if he couldn’t beat the horse into submission he’d just drug him there.

It hadn’t been working out so well for him.

Glancing towards gate, he saw Hux waiting impatiently by the fence, red faced and aggravated. More so than normal.

“What’s up with Hux?” he asked, falling into step next to Absolution.

“Schooling ring escapades,” Phasma answered, lightly. “But it’s Hux, being pissed off is kind of his natural state. He should be happy about it, really, it’s a convenient excuse when this hollow headed beast does something stupid and places like shit.”

He snorted but raised his eyebrows, “Schooling ring? What happened?”

Phasma shrugged, “Horse spooked in front of my jump. Near crash. Abs got pissed at me for it and had a small fit.”

“Huh.” He shrugged back, “Was it anyone we know?”

“Nah, some British chick on a small grey mare. Never seen either of them before in my life.”

British chick? He blinked in surprise. It… well, it didn’t have to be the girl from yesterday, but there weren’t a lot of people with British accents here.

The tractor left the ring and Hux motioned exaggeratedly towards Phasma. She rolled her eyes, “I’m being called, later, Kylo.”

He nodded. She started walking towards the in gate, and he followed a few steps behind her, figuring he’d go watch by the gate—

A flash of lavender had him halting in his tracks. Amilyn Holdo, who’d worked for his mother’s barn since pretty much forever, was walking towards the ring with a kid on a chestnut paint pony and a girl on a lanky bay— probably a thoroughbred. Probably both at their first rated show, since Maidens were limited to horses that had never placed first in a class. It made it one of those weird classes where you might just get novice riders on dead broke horses that just never been to a rated show mixing in with pro riders on green as grass horses.

Not that any of that mattered. What mattered was he did not want to see Holdo and he did not want Holdo to see him. Making an abrupt change of course, he climbed up the hill the ring was built into, moving passed the small bleachers and finding himself a spot alone on the far end, looking down on the horses trickling in.

Phasma passed by below him, and he could see her eying Holdo’s kids warily. He couldn’t blame her, having to steer around beginners sucked and she was riding a powderkeg in horse form. The last thing you wanted was to be the person whose horse’s freak out sent a seven year old to the hospital. Abs even looked like a walking time bomb, he was walking with his ears back, grinding his teeth on the bit, super tense and pissy. It was the look of a horse just looking for an excuse to blow up.

Movement at the ingate caught his eye and he turned to see a small grey entered the ring. Even from this end of the ring he could see Hux’s red face turn, scowling, to glare the horse and rider as they walked in.

British chick on a grey mare, Phasma had said. Given Hux’s reaction, this had to be the pair that caused the altercation in the schooling ring.

He took off his sunglasses and leaned over the fence to watch them as they drew closer. The mare wasn’t a cookie cutter hunter. She was small and somewhat round, undoubtedly not a warmblood. Not a thoroughbred either. Maybe quarter? Appendix? Hell, could just be a grade horse that won the genetic lottery. Didn’t matter, she was actually put together really nice, and despite not being a clone of every other horse that walked into the hunter ring, she still looked the part of a hunter. Her conformation just worked for it.

They got close enough that he could see the rider well enough to confirm that it was the girl from the barn yesterday. His hands tightened their grip on the top rail of the fence in irritation at the memory.

Her coat was a too big, he could see that from up here. It made him feel irrationally, almost pettily, smug. She might as well have been screaming that she didn’t belong here.

Almost instantly he felt like an elitist asshole for that reaction. It was the way the rich assholes and pricks like Hux thought. It was everything wrong with the sport nowadays, boxing out anyone but the ultra wealthy from competition.

He was still leaning over the railing as she passed by below him, as she did she glanced up. For a split second their eyes met, then he pulled back from the rail like he’d been burned, hoping she hadn’t recognized him.

The mare she was on was young and green, looking around a bit too much and snorting at jump standards. A different kind of powderkeg than Absolution, but could be equally explosive, he was sure. Both in the same ring just added to the potential for disaster. Along with them there were two more very green babies ridden by amateurs, and Holdo’s two kids.

Across the ring Absolution balked at something, threatening to rear when Phasma jabbed him with her spurs. She cracked the horse once with her whip and he threw a buck in response and went skittering sideways, ears against his skull. The grey mare jumped the sound of the whip, scooting forward and nearly bolting. The girl managed to hold the mare together, but looked very tense.

On the other end of the ring he heard Holdo frantically yelling to her kids to stay away from the chestnut horse.

He shook his head, this class had all the elements in place to be a major shitshow.

 

* * *

 

Rey was fairly sure she was about to die in her first class at a rated show and it was going to be a god damn flat class. She glanced around for Han, who she lost track of once she entered the ring.

Prom was being a jumpy idiot, and that damn chestnut Prom had nearly crashed into in the schooling ring was in this class and being an absolute idiot before the class even started. His rider was using her whip way too liberally and the sound was making Prom, and the other horses in the ring, extra nervous.

“Breath kid,” Han’s voice rumbled from far corner of the ring. She turned her head to see he was in the shade of a small tree, leaning on the fence. Taking a deep breath, Rey circled back over to him. He smiled at her with a glint in his eye, “Come on, there’s six horses in the ring, after that saddle club show this should be nothing.”

“That chestnut…”

“Is an asshole. Keep away from him,” Han shrugged.

“We nearly crashed into him in the schooling ring,” she said, flushing. “It got him pissed.”

Han laughed, “That happens sometimes. The schooling rings are a demolition derby.” He nodded the direction of the chestnut, who was walking again in a surly, tense way, ears pinned. “And trust me, that horse is looking for excuses to be a dick. You didn’t shatter his psyche with whatever happened,” Han waved dismissively. “Just keep to your own space, ride her into your hand and keep her focused on working.”

Rey raised her eyebrows and cast a glance down at Prom’s head.

“Okay, _try_ to keep her focused on working.” Han smiled, reaching over the fence to tap Prom on the nose, “It’s for experience, anyway. It’s not a big deal.”

It sure felt like a big deal. Rey sighed.

**“Maiden Hunters under saddle, your class is now complete.”**

She tensed, shortening her reins and pulling Prom away from the fence to start walking again.

“Luck kid!” Han called from behind her as the loudspeaker crackled to life.

**“Maiden hunters you are now being judged at the walk.”**

 

* * *

 

It actually went better longer than he expected.

Abs had been enough of a dick that everyone else was keeping away from him. The girl on the grey was doing a good job keeping her own space and making the mare stay focused on work so she wouldn’t be looking around so much. Begrudgingly, he had to admit the girl was a good rider, despite being a little too tense and clearly nervous. Good seat, good eq, and was handling a mare that was making her ride every step.

And that mare, oh, he liked that mare. At the walk she was cute, but when she got engaged at the trot she practically _floated_. It was a beautiful, ground covering step that looked utterly effortless. She wasn’t on her forehand either, like way too many hunters who had their heads strapped down in draw reins too much tended to go. No, she was light and engaging from her hind.

What a nice little horse. Probably most trainers here would have never taken her, since she wasn’t what you expected a hunter to be. Whoever had taken a chance on her had a better sense of horseflesh probably than most people did on the circuit these days.

The inevitable meltdown happened during the right lead canter. One of Holdo’s kids, the girl on the bay, took the quarterline to pass Absolution, giving the chestnut a ton of space. Abs spun his ass out and threw a double barrel kick at the thoroughbred. There was too much space between them to make contact, but it still spooked the bay, who bolted sideways and sending the girl onto his neck. That set off one of the other green horses who started to buck as the announcer called everyone to a walk.

He saw the grey skitter forward, but the girl sank down into the saddle and slammed her into a halt. A little too rough, but being handsy for a second was better than being on a runaway. Everyone was starting to calm down, the bay was a little wildeyed but the kid was still on, although looked shaken. Abs was jigging sideways along the rail.

Over by the in gate he saw Holdo was over by the gatekeeper, ranting. Hux stormed over, yelling.

His vantage point was close enough to the judges box that he was able to hear the walkie talkie crackle and the gatekeeper’s voice, “Should we excuse 462?”

In the background he could hear Hux ranting “god damn kid… shouldn’t passed so close…”

Kylo rolled his eyes. He guessed Holdo was trying to get Abs excused, Hux was being an ass and trying to pass blame on the kid.

There was a long pause, he could see the judge looking down at the class list. A good judge would excuse Absolution for his behavior and the disruption. But, he suspected this judge was weighing that against who owned and who trained the horse.

“It’s fine. Ask for posting trot,” he heard faintly from the judges booth.

He sighed, at least the class was nearly over.

 

* * *

 

**“Riders, please line up in the center of the ring with your numbers facing the judge.”**

Rey let out the breath she was holding and turned into middle of the ring. She had barely kept Prom from bolting during the cascading meltdown that the chestnut had started, and was relieved that they had only trotted briefly before they called them to the center.

With all honestly, she was surprised the chestnut hadn’t be excused from the class for starting all the trouble. Poor kid whose horse he kicked at pulled into the lineup next to her, looking rather white faced and trembling.

The rider on the chestnut looked beyond irate, and was keeping her distance from everyone else. Which was a good thing because the horse refused to keep still, making her have to constantly circle him out of line before attempting to once again get him to stand.

**“We have the results now for our Maiden Hunters under saddle. First place and the blue ribbon goes to number 789, Promise, ridden by Rey Smith.”**

Wait, what?

The announcer’s voice faded with the white noise buzzing in her head. She took first?

_First?!_

Horses around her began to move and she realized they were leaving the ring, the class was over. She followed along, feeling dazed. Loud voices at the in gate brought her back, and she saw Holdo and the redhead asshole from the schooling ring were in each other’s faces, shouting over one another

“...damn horse is a danger to everyone else in the class! No competent trainer would have…” Holdo was pointing her finger in the redhead’s face.

The redhead was snarling right back at her, “...passed too close… cost my horse the class, he was going to win until…”

“...shouldn’t be surprised since there’s nothing _competent_ about you Hux…”

“...pathetic, putting kids in this class… not that I should be surprised you…”

_Oh boy…_

She nudged Prom past them, casting a wary glance. Finding a spot to the side to halt and look for Han.

The chestnut was exiting the ring, his rider looking nervously at the redhead as she passed. She headed towards Prom and she picked up her reins, ready to move away, but the rider halted a safe distance away, dismounting, jerking hard on the reins as soon as her feet hit the ground. Rey had just went back to looking for Han when a loud crack sent Prom skittering sideways.

She turned to look as she got Prom back under control and saw the chestnut spinning his hind away from his rider, who cracked him again across his flank with the whip, making Prom jump again. Around them everyone stopped, heads turning to stare in shock, which was a bit of a relief that she wasn’t the only person who found this wholly inappropriate. The woman wasn't disciplining the horse as much as taking her anger out on it.

His rider jerked on the reins once more and then glanced at her and Prom, cool blue eyes seeming to be assessing her for a split second before she spoke. “Sorry,” the woman said with an indifferent shrug.

It took a moment for Rey to figure out the woman was probably apologizing for startling Prom. “Um.. uh… It’s okay,” she mumbled, not actually feeling like any of this was okay.

“Cute horse.” The woman stepped over and stretched her arm out, offering a hand to shake while trying to keep the chestnut a safe distance away from Prom. “Jeanne Phasma.”

Rey wasn't particularly upset that Prom opted to balk sideways so the hand was out of reach. She shrugged in a half hearted apology, “Rey Smith.”

The chestnut threw his head up and Phasma jerked hard on the reins, forcing the horse to back. Faintly she heard the woman mutter under her breath, “Motherfucker. Not going to be sad if I come in one day and find you dead in your stall.”

That was a was a weird thing to say, Rey looked at her, puzzled. Phasma didn’t seem to notice, instead raising her hand to call to a groom heading their direction. “Juan, ven a traer a este hijo de puta de regreso al granero antes de que lo mate!”

Phasma handed the horse off to the groom before turning around, walking backwards as she nodded towards Rey. “Congrats on the win,” she called, before turning around and heading back towards the barn. A man walked down from the side of the ring to meet her when she was about halfway there.

He cast a glance over his shoulder towards Rey.

It was the pretty eyed asshole from yesterday. She had thought she’d seen him leaning over the fence looking down at her before the class had started, but then he had been gone and she hadn’t been sure it was him.

Their eyes met for a second and then he turned his head, looking down and seeming to walk faster towards the barn.

“Kid!”

She jumped, looking to see Han hurrying over, a blue ribbon in his hand and a grin plastered across his face. Behind him Chewie was following, beaming at her.

“Not bad at all,” Han kept grinning, grabbing the reins and trying to hook the ribbon onto the bridle by her ear. Prom threw her head up, stepping sideways. “Easy girl, gotta get a picture of you with your first blue.” He got her to hold still long enough to hook the ribbon on, then turned around and shoved his phone into Chewie’s hand, “Get a picture of me and my best girls.”

Chewie took the phone, though Rey was pretty sure she saw him roll his eyes, albeit in an affectionate way. He raised the phone up to take the photo, making a few clucks to get Prom’s ears forward.

“Smile, kid,” Han beamed, and she couldn’t help but grin and laugh.

Maybe today wasn’t going to be too bad of a day at all.

 

* * *

 

Despite the paranoia, the day actually went pretty well. His horses all showed well. Retribution had swept the low performance hunters, which should help get the horse back into Snoke’s good graces again. And most importantly he’d somehow managed to avoid any contact with his mother on this godforsaken tiny showgrounds.

There was still the grand prix, but Kylo had drawn an early slot in the order, and a quick glance at the horse and riders going right before and right after him had him sighing in relief when he saw Dameron and Raddus weren’t anywhere near him in the order of go. It wasn’t a sure thing, if they both made the jump off he might find himself crossing paths with New Republic, but at that point, with all the attention focused on them, he had to trust that even _she_ wouldn’t risk making a scene.

He headed down the aisle, skirting around a gaggle of the junior girls giggling obnoxiously with one another by the grooming stalls without bothering to look at them. Two more hours until he’d need to get on and warm Silencer up, and his nerves were still a little frayed from endlessly watching over his shoulder. Time to calm down and focus, and the best way he knew to do that was to spend a little time with Silencer and forget about everything else..

Before he could get to her stall a nicker and rattle of a stall gate stopped him. Retribution and come to the gate of his stall, ears forward as he nickered softly. Kylo stopped and walked over to the bay, shaking his head, “Yeah yeah, you were good today.” He leaned on the gate, unwrapping a peppermint as the horse tried to reach his hands to snatch it.

“Wait a second, you don’t want the plastic,” Kylo fumbled the wrapper off and offered the mint to Retribution, who snatched it from the palm of his hand. When the horse began to search him for more he shook his head, holding his empty palm flat for Retribution to lick, “Uh uh, no more. Not going to let you steal all of Silencer’s mints. Bad enough I’m going to be forever stuck in the hunter ring now since I’m the only one you like to ride you.”

The horse responded by nuzzling Kylo’s chest, still looking for more treats. Despite being a bit of a headache by being fickle about who he’d perform well for, Kylo had to admit he really liked this horse. The gelding had a good personality, a little quirky and rather affectionate, and he really was a phenomenal horse when he had a rider he liked.

He supposed if he had to show hunters on a horse, there were a lot worse ones to be stuck with. Glancing at his watch, he bopped Retribution on the nose before heading the rest of the way down to Silencer’s stall.

 

* * *

 

There were a growing collection of ribbons hanging on the outer walls of their stalls.

Prom’s over fences rounds had been a bit erratic, she got third in her first round and sixth— last— in her second round after blowing a lead change. Still, Rey wasn’t about to complain, for her first real show and her first time showing over fences, Prom had been far better than Rey’d expected.

Bell had been equally inconsistent, but still managed to get a fourth and a seventh in a division that had a crazy number of entries. He and Prom were the youngest and greenest of Han’s lot, so she could only expect they’d both get better the more they showed.

Ty was in the ribbons in every class, and managed to get a reserve champion in modified hunters. Van floored her by sweeping the low hunters, which had at least thirty entries.

She and Fonzi had a few sketchy moments in puddle jumpers, including taking a two stride line in one stride. Han had been horrified and Poe, who had been next to Han watching her round, had laughed his ass off and told her to just say she meant to do it.

“Do something like that in the grand prix and I’m throttling you,” Han had grumbled, looking like all blood had drained from his face.

The show day was almost over, just one class left.

One very big class. She looked at the order of go again, even though it wasn’t like it was going to change. She was towards the end of the list, a few horses after Poe went on Leia’s jumper Raddus.

Rey took a shaky breath, she could do this. Falcon could do this.

She just had to trust herself and her horse.

 

* * *

 

Silencer was as perfect as always.

They went clear easy. Several other people had already as well, though. The course designer for this grand prix had not been, to borrow Hux’s phrasing, “a cunt”. In fact the course designer had been a little lax. It was an easy course. He expected a lot of riders were going to make the jump off, which meant he’d need to be fast on the jump off course.

After Juan took Silencer back to the barn, he went to the upper deck of the grandstand. It was a good vantage point to watch the other riders go without being out in the open.

The clear rounds ticked up, seven, eight… it was going to be a big jump off.

Phasma went clear on Finalizer, nine.

A few rounds later, Dameron went. He caught sight of _her_ by the in gate, watching after sending Dameron in, and turned and walked to the other side of the grandstand deck, which looked down on the schooling ring. There probably was little to no chance she would have spotted him up here, but he didn’t want take the risk.

So instead he leaned over and looked at the horses in the schooling ring, waiting to hear the results of Dameron’s round announced. Most of the horses were ones he recognized. Grand prix horses were an exclusive group, he’d competed against, and beaten, most of these horses before.

He scanned over the ring, not really looking at anyone in particular, when his eyes were drawn to one particular horse who stuck out amid the big warmbloods. Lanky, chestnut, a small star, conformation put together by committee.

Kylo blinked, that… no. It wasn’t…

The gelding’s shiny chestnut coat was marred by some odd white patches.

 _From the fire…_ his mind supplied, and he choked, for a split second remembering blistering heat and horses screaming, and Luke dragging him back by his collar when he tried to go in to save them.

He drew a shaky breath and realized he was looking down at his hands, which were gripping the railing now so hard his knuckles turned white. Letting go, he looked down in the schooling ring again, almost expecting that the horse would be gone, a ghost that had never really been there.

But he was still there, trotting now. The rider wasn’t dressed as formal as most riders were for a grand prix, and her coat was a bit too big… His mind buzzed for a moment and he shook his head trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

It was the girl, the one that had been such a bitch to him yesterday, and she was riding his father’s horse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay in this update. Life is just crazy lately.


	7. Grand Prix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **“Next rider in our Showplace Productions Grand Prix is Millenium... Falcon—”** the announcer's voice stuttered over the name, surprised, and a ripple of confused murmurs went through the crowd. The announcer recovered, voice smoothing out, **“—owned by Han Solo and piloted by Rey Smith.”**
> 
> Kylo stood, his indignation slowly giving way to anger as he walked the railing overlooking the ring. From the group down the deck he caught part of a question a woman was asking the others around her, “ that Millenium Falcon?”
> 
> He looked down to watch Falcon walk into the ring, ears up and eyes bright. The sun was starting to get lower, causing his chestnut coat to shine red-gold in the evening light. There was an eager bounce to his step, and his tail was held up just so slightly, just enough to let you know the horse was excited.
> 
> Watching the pair pick up the canter, his heart jumped in apprehension and his hands clenched into tight fists.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much thanks to QueenBlackBetha for betaing this chapter for me.

_“Horsemanship is the art of mastering our own movements, thoughts, emotions and behavior. Not the horses.” -Mark Rashid_

 

_Roscoe, IL_

“Take him over the center vertical!” Han barked from schooling gate.

She glanced over her shoulder at Han while cantering, then looked at the middle schooling jump. It was maybe 1.3 meters, the smallest of the three, with a vertical to one side that looked like it was at 1.6 meter, and a monster oxer that looked about 1.45 meters with a spread of at least 1.8 meters.

Hell, she took a breath. If she let herself get intimidated by the goddamned schooling jumps, there was no way she would make it over the real course. Steeling herself, she circled and headed for the middle jump. Falcon’s ears pricked forward the moment they turned, locking on to the fence and stretching out his stride just slightly. She let him extend, knowing he was scopey enough to trust him to find a good distance.

He cleared the jump effortlessly.

“Okay, outside vertical, then come around and take that oxer.”

Shit. Okay. _You can do this, Rey,_ she thought to herself. _You can do this._

Circling again she steered Falcon towards the enormous vertical, her breath catching in her throat as they neared it. Falcon didn’t share her trepidation as he approached the jump eagerly, ears forward and alert.

The jump was as smooth as she’d come to expect, but the landing from that height was a bit rough, sending a jolt through her entire body and making her use her core to keep herself from landing in a heap on Falcon’s neck. It took her a stride or two to recover, and regain her contact and control. She gasped a breath, grateful that the gelding was such a good old man. On a greenie like Fonzi, a lapse like that would have been a disaster, the gelding getting strung out and difficult to get back together. Falcon though, was completely unphased, cantering straight from the schooling jump at a steady pace.

She underestimated how quickly the turn for the next jump would come up, and overshot it by a stride, which made her approach to the large, looming oxer awkward and on a slight angle. It was making the difficult jump a lot more difficult, and she pulled back hard, not sure from that approach of her distance.

Falcon threw his head up, ears flicking back irately. As the jump grew nearer she was becoming less and less sure of their take off point. The gelding pulled against her for stride and then suddenly surged forward, leaping before she was expecting it and forcing her to throw herself forward into her two point or be left behind and catch his mouth.

There was nothing smooth about this jump. Between the angle and the extremely long distance Falcon had taken, the horse was having to strain to get over it. His hind end twisted and hitched up hard to keep his hind legs from crashing into the back bar of the oxer, shifting her balance to the right stirrup and causing her to lose her left one. They landed with enough force that she it felt like her teeth ratted in her skull. Her weight was all still to the right, causing her to collapse forward onto the horse’s neck.

For a few strides after landing, she was sure she was coming off as she hung from the horse’s right side. Somehow she managed to keep herself on by hooking her left leg around the cantle, and then pulled herself back up into the saddle.

Falcon let out a snort as she pulled him to a halt, looking down at his withers while breathing hard, her mind filled with white noise as she tried to get herself to calm down.

Laughter cut through the static in her mind.

She looked up to see Poe Dameron up on Raddus in at the gate, laughing his ass off. Leia was at one side of the gate with a white-knuckled grip on the fence post. Han was staring at her with wide eyes, looking rather pale. Rey wasn’t even sure if Han was breathing.

Dameron began to clap as he laughed, causing both Han and Leia to turn their heads to glare up at him. Her cheeks heated and she bit her lip, feeling completely mortified. She fished her left foot into the stirrup and nudged Falcon to walk over to the three of them.

“Seriously Poe, that’s enough!” Leia snapped.

“Come on! Did you see that save?” Poe grinned. “I mean that was a _save_. She was halfway to the ground and got herself back on.”

Leia huffed, turning her glare from Dameron to Han, who kept his eyes pointedly looking away from the woman, “This is ridiculous, Han, you can’t seriously send her out there.”

Dameron circled Raddus around, “Why not? Cause she took a bad jump? Who hasn’t? She kept herself on, that’s the important part.”

“Oh for pete’s sake, stay out of this Poe,” Leia turned her eyes back to the man. “The girl is _not_ ready.”

“Please,” Poe scoffed, holding his reins with one hand to point at Leia with the other. “If you spend your whole life waiting till you're absolutely, completely and utterly ready, you’ll spend your whole life waiting. Get out there and do it. Make your mistakes, have your failures, how else are you going to learn?”

“You can learn without putting your life at risk,” Leia responded, cooly.

“We’re climbing onto twelve hundred pound prey animals, Leia.” Poe waved his hand dismissively, “Our lives are always at risk and if you tell yourself different, you’re deluding yourself.”

“Just,” Leia let out aggravated huff. “Get the damn horse back to the barn. He should get a little bit of rest time before we have to bring him back out for the jump off.”

“Alright, alright,” Poe reined Raddus back, looking at Rey and winking, “Take the chance. You got this, kid.”

“Poe!”

“I’m going, I’m going,” Poe answered as he started walking Raddus back towards the stables.

Han, who had been looking down at the top rail of the schooling arena fence through the entire conversation, looked up to meet her eyes. “Okay, tell me what happened there?”

“I… um…” she swallowed. “I turned to late.”

“And?”

“Our approach sucked?”

“Yeah, it did, and?”

“Um…” she blinked at Han blankly before blurting out, “I was pulling on him?”

“Yeah, you started practically ripping his face off,” Han grumbled. “Now why were you doing _that_?”

Rey felt her cheeks reddening again, “I… couldn’t see the distance.” Han just raised his eyebrows and her mind spun. “I was nervous?”

“You didn’t trust him,” Han said flatly. “You didn’t see your distance and you didn’t trust him to find it, so you were locking him down and not letting him go. He took control and took that spot because you were going to run him through that fucking jump the way you were going.”

She bit her lip and Han shook his head, “I know any other horse I yell at you for letting them make the decisions, but they’re green, they’re going to to make stupid decisions so you have to be in constant control. But this horse? He knows _this_ better than you do.”

Leia rolled her eyes and buried her face in her hands, muttering to herself.

Han ignored her, speaking earnestly, “If you aren’t sure, then let him decide. Cause I can promise you that he will always get you to the other side of that jump. Can you do that?”

She nodded, once.

“Good, walk him around once and get your shit together, then take those two jumps again.”

 

* * *

 

Laughter drew him back over to the railing.

Kylo had pulled away and begun to pace up and down the upper deck of the grandstand, running a hand through his hair. A small group of spectators sitting at a table at the far end giving him cautious glances as he stomped past them, muttering to himself.

Seeing Falcon was triggering memories he avoided thinking about. The fire at Jedi Equestrian had been one of the most horrific things he’d ever experienced, a whirlwind of heat and flame and smoke and screaming horses. It had gone up fast, he and Luke had only gotten a handful of horses out before the flames grew too intense and Luke had stopped him from going back in. The stables had been a raging inferno, sections collapsing, when his Falcon had come charging out of the flames, his father clinging to the horse’s mane and being dragged along with a broken leg.

Neither he or Luke had even known Han was there that night. Han had moved a handful of his horses into Jedi Equestrian a few months back, after Leia had finally had enough and filed for divorce. So it wasn’t too strange that he’d been there… except… he’d seen the look in Luke’s eyes as he glared at Han while the man was being loaded up into the ambulance, a look of contempt and fury and full of blame.

It was the last time he’d seen his father. Despite his mother trying, he’d refused to go see Han in the hospital.

Approaching the railing warily, he peered down towards the schooling ring, curiosity on what the laughter was about overriding his apprehension.

The first thing that he saw was _him_.

His father was standing at the gate to the schooling ring. His face was older, wrinkles more deep set and face a little more chiseled, but really he didn’t look too much different than he remembered him. Leia was standing like a bookend on the other side, looking thoroughly agitated and pissed.

Her normal look when Han was around, really. Somethings never change.

The source of the laughter was Dameron, sitting on Raddus at the in-gate and laughing his ass off while the girl looked embarrassed and mortified. Maybe had a bad jump. Figures, Poe was the type of asshole that finds other people’s fuck ups just so funny.

What the hell was that girl and that horse even doing down there? Falcon was in his twenties, and hadn’t seen the inside of a grand prix ring for twelve years. And while he’d admit that girl was a decent enough rider, nothing he’d seen said she belonged anywhere this level. They couldn’t possibly be planning on sending those two into the ring. It would be crazy and reckless and fucking stupid.

Exactly the type of shit Han would do…

Kylo groaned, stumbling as he backed away from the railing. He found one of the patio chairs scattered around the deck and collapsed into it, burying his hands in his face, letting himself have a moment to pity himself and why his family had to choose to come back to haunt him when he already had enough to deal with.

At least Luke was still off in his hiding retirement. Having his mother, father, and uncle reappear at the same time would probably drive him to a nervous breakdown.

He took a breath, running a hand through his hair and felt his self-pity and anxiety slowly being replaced by a growing indignation. Indignant at Han for being asinine enough to do something like this, at Leia for not putting her foot down to stop it, at the damn girl for being stupid enough to go along with it. Dumbass kid.

**“Next rider in our Showplace Productions Grand Prix is Millenium... Falcon—”** the announcer's voice stuttered over the name, surprised, and a ripple of confused murmurs went through the crowd. The announcer recovered, voice smoothing out, **“—owned by Han Solo and piloted by Rey Smith.”**

Kylo stood, his indignation slowly giving way to anger as he walked the railing overlooking the ring. From the group down the deck he caught part of a question a woman was asking the others around her, “ _that_ Millenium Falcon?”

He looked down to watch Falcon walk into the ring, ears up and eyes bright. The sun was starting to get lower, causing his chestnut coat to shine red-gold in the evening light. There was an eager bounce to his step, and his tail was held up just so slightly, just enough to let you know the horse was excited.

Watching the pair pick up the canter, his heart jumped in apprehension and his hands clenched into tight fists.

 

* * *

 

All sound— from people watching to the trucks on the interstate just beyond the berm of the ring to the birds and crickets— seemed to cease the moment she walked Falcon into the ring. Instead there was just the pounding of her heart and the blood rushing in her ears. The ring seemed to be stretching infinitely in all directions, overwhelmingly large and filled with massive jumps.

If Falcon felt her anxiety— and he probably did— he didn’t show it. The horse was excited, but not in a wild way. He was eager, she could tell, though also focused. He knew exactly where he was, and exactly what he was supposed to do.

Rey took a deep breath and ask Falcon for the canter. The buzzer sounded, cutting through the white noise in her head as she circled and turned to the first fence. Falcon flew over the oxer as if it was no effort at all. She managed to sit up, hoping she was remembering her next fence right as she rolled back and jumped a big vertical. Next was a one stride, which had looked like it should ride easy, but she veered her path from the vertical a little too far and her approach was off just enough that she couldn’t quite tell where the right distance was. She pulled back, feeling a growing wave of panic.

Falcon threw his head up, ears pinning back, and tensing angrily under her. Her eyes widened and she shoved her hands forward, Han’s words from the schooling ring echoing in her head. The horse flicked his ears forward again, stretching his stride out. He took a longer distance, landed and took a huge stride before taking another long spot over the oxer out of the one stride. As they landed Rey took a gasping breath, wondering if that had looked as sketchy as it felt.

The rest of the course continued to be a bit erratic. Jumps four and five were a six stride line, vertical to an oxer, and then it was an easy ride to jump six. But six to seven was a sharp roll back, and she made too sharp of a turn, again, screwing up her approach and burying them into base of jump seen. Falcon leapt practically straight up in the air, twisting during the jump to somehow manage to not touch the rails. She landed on a heap on his neck and he stumbled hard before getting his feet back under him and accelerating away. By the time she recovered they were already overshooting their turn to the next jump, a big liverpool. They got there awkward and she was jumped out of the tack again, losing her right stirrup on landing.

Jump eight to jump nine was a fairly smooth bending line, which allowed her enough time to get herself centered in the saddle again. She rooted for her stirrup with her foot, but only kept knocking it away as she tried to get her foot in. It was still evading her as Falcon took jump nine, a big blue and green vertical. They’d gotten a perfect spot, and the gelding soared over it with ease.

Still trying to get her foot back in the stirrup, Rey turned too early to jump ten, a big red and white triple bar, and jerked hard on the reins without thinking when Falcon tried to extend his step. The result was disastrous, as they once again took off way too close. She had no idea how Falcon managed to not crash through the jump, but once again he seemed to spring up like a cat and pull off some kind of contortions that defied physics in order to keep his legs from touching the jump.

The landing was harder than anything so far, and she was thrown again onto his neck, losing her left stirrup now as well and slipping off to the left. For a split second she was sure she was going to come off, her hands snagged into Falcon’s mane. Rey struggled and pulled herself back into the saddle just in time for Falcon to be leaving the ground. The horse had cantered to the next jump on auto pilot. They cleared it, and she managed to keep herself in the center of the saddle.

From jump eleven it was a short approach to the triple combination— a one stride to a three stride. It wasn’t nearly enough time to get her stirrups back. Rey grabbed Falcon’s mane and closed her eyes, as the horse leapt in, holding herself in her two point for the one stride to the second jump in the combination. She managed sit up, counting the three strides to the looming oxer, closing her eyes again as Falcon launched himself.

Her legs were burning as she threw her hands forward and urged Falcon through the finish line.

Pulling him up, she exhaled a shaky breath. Glancing over her shoulder at the course as she kicked her feet into the stirrups. It had been ugly, but she was pretty sure they hadn’t knocked anything. If they hadn’t exceeded the time allowed—

The loudspeaker burst to life as the announcer cleared his throat, **“Uh, well, Rey Smith and Millenium Falcon have completed the course with zero faults and a time of 93 seconds, within the time allowed of 103. The two will move on to the jump off. That will make a total of nine riders in our jump off now.”**

Holy shit. She’d actually gone clear.

Falcon sidestepped under her and Rey realized it she needed to actually exit the ring. She loosened the reins and let him walk towards the gate where she could see Han standing, looking like he might have just aged five extra years in the last five minutes. He grabbed Falcon’s reins as they left the ring, not looking up at her as they walked back towards the schooling ring. “This might have been a bad idea,” he muttered, to her or to himself, she wasn’t sure.

“We went clear,” she answered, still breathing hard. Had she been breathing at all during that course?

Han rolled his eyes up to look at her, “Somehow, you did, kid. Which means you go back out for the jump off. I’m thinking that might not be a good idea.” When she frowned in response he held up his hand, “I told you, this was for experience. You got the experience and we know there’s more than a little we need to work on before we do another of these.”

“The jump off is part of the experience,” she huffed, feeling irritated. They made it this far, at the very least she deserved a shot.

“Kid,” Han groaned, “This—”

“Oh my GOD! You went clear!”

Rey and Han snapped their heads over to see Rose jogging away from a small group towards them. Rose stopped and bounced next to Falcon. “I can’t believe you actually just went clear in a _grand prix_!”

“I… um… thanks. It wasn’t the best but…”

Han let out an exasperated sigh which Rose ignored, beaming, “Oh God, it was terrifying, but you went clear!”

“Hell yeah, kid,” Poe’s voice called. He was walking over along with Leia and Holdo, and was the only one in the group smiling. “You made the jump off in your first Grand Prix. Now _that_ is something,” he grinned up at her. Behind him Leia huffed and Holdo crossed her arms and shot a scathing glare at the back of Poe’s head.

“Yeah, it was something all right,” Holdo said, dryly, shaking her head.

Leia didn’t even look at her, instead her entire focus was on Han, who she jabbed a finger at, “You, we need to talk, _now_.”

“Uh…” Han took a nervous glance at Rey and Falcon, “Okay. I’ll be right back. Let him walk if he gets pissy about standing.”

Poe stepped over as Han followed Leia down towards the parking lot, the two of them already snapping at each other in low voices before they were out of sight. He beamed up at her, “It was a little erratic.” Behind him Holdo raised her eyebrows and gave the back of Poe’s head a sardonic look. “But you never gave up. I love that. Nobody wants to carry through when shit gets rough nowadays, but you did. You had a course and you finished it.” Poe smacked her left thigh, “You got balls kid.”

Rey’s cheeks flushed slightly before looking down, “I think Han wants me to scratch and skip the jump off.”

“No! You got this far,” Rose shook her head, “I mean, you survived that, you can survive another— what? Six jumps?”

“Six efforts,” Poe corrected, “the one stride is in it so that’s seven jumps.” He squinted up at her, “I’m not about to tell you what to do, but personally I think you should do it. Take a shot.”

“Jesus,” Holdo muttered before raising her voice, “Rose, go check on Raddus. We only got a handful more rounds before the jump off.” Rose turned and hurried off back to the barn. “And Dameron, I think it’s about time for you to get back to the barn.”

Poe raised his eyebrows and folded his arms across his chest, “I think I’ve still got plenty of time before I need to get on again.”

Holdo blinked at Poe before taking a step forward to smile down at him, “Fuck off, Flyboy.”

“You can’t—” Poe sputtered, only to have Holdo take another step forward and cut him off, still smiling.

“I said. _Fuck. Off._ ”

Poe snapped his mouth shut, glaring at Holdo for a moment before turning and walking away. Holdo’s head turned, following him as he left, before turning back and walking over to Rey and taking a light hold on Falcon’s reins right below the bit, ignoring the horse as he tried to mouth at her wrist.

“You’re going to be a stubborn ass about this, aren’t you?” Holdo sighed, cocking her head ever so slightly, light blue eyes studying Rey calculatingly.

“Whether I go into the jump off or not is between me and Han,” Rey answered, aggravated. Why was everyone else now pushing in on what wasn’t their business.

Holdo let out a musical laugh, a wry smile on her face. She pushed her lavender hair back with the hand that wasn’t holding onto Falcon, “No no, it’s up to you, because in the end— even after Leia finishes ripping him a new asshole— old gruff exterior is a big smushy softy and will cave to whatever you want to do. That’s always been Han’s problem. He wants to play with the bad boys and but he’s too nice in the end to get away with it.” Holdo leaned in as Rey blinked down at her in surprise, “So… it’s going to be up to you, and you’re going to be a pain in the ass and push this disaster even further than it needs to go, aren’t you?”

Disaster? Okay, it was terrible but disaster seemed a little extreme. Why did all these people think they had the right to have a say in any of this? Rey clenched her jaw, her hands tightening on the reins, “None of this is any of your business,” she sputtered. “It’s my choice and Han’s choice since Falcon is his horse. The rest of you have nothing to do with this.”

A long sigh escaped Holdo as she rolled her eyes, “Yeah, going to be an ass. Okay, so then we’re going to have to talk.”

“I don’t need to talk to any of yo—”

“What happened out there?” Holdo asked, ignoring her. “And more importantly, why did it happen?”

Rey stared before huffing, “We went clear.”

“You did, fine, if you want to start there, why did that happen?” Holdo let go of Falcon and crossed her arms, waiting patiently for an answer.

“Um... “

“Come on, Rey, I teach seven year olds and they answer my questions better than this.”

For a beat, Rey just stared, before looking down, “Falcon saved my ass.”

“Ah, say that a bit louder,” Holdo smirked.

“He saved my ass,” Rey snapped, annoyed.

“Yeah, he did.” Holdo’s voice softened. “Now, why did he need to save your ass?”

“I made some mistakes.”

Holdo let out a snort, “You made a _lot_ of mistakes. _Why_ were you making mistakes?”

Rey stared down at the woman blankly and Holdo sighed, reaching out to take Falcon’s rein again as she leaned in, “Honey, you were scared shitless. That’s why you made mistakes. It’s why you shouldn’t be in that ring. You’ve got a lot of skill, natural skill, Han’s right about that. And you can hang on, that’s for sure, Poe is right about that. But Poe’s a rash dumbass who doesn’t quite get yet that there’s more to riding than just making it to the other side of the jump with the horse still under you.” Holdo smiled almost fondly a moment before shaking her head, “But skill is worthless if you freeze up the moment you go on course, that’s what happened to you.”

She waited to see if Rey would say anything, and then shook her head when she didn’t, “If you’re seriously going to ride the jump off, you need to find a way shove your fear aside and focus on getting over the jumps.”

“How, exactly, do I do that?” Rey asked, quietly, looking down at Falcon’s withers.

“I wish I could tell you that,” Holdo patted Falcon’s neck. “I’ve been doing this for over forty years, and there’s never been a magic button I could tell a nervous rider to press. It’s something you need to figure out how to do on your own.”

Han and Leia approached, walking back from the parking lot. Leia still looked thoroughly agitated and Han was staring at the ground, hands in his pockets. Holdo took several steps back to let the two of them walk up.

“Han and I are both in agreement that you should scratch from the jump off,” Leia said, matter-of-factly.

Han shifted his weight from foot to foot, before glancing up, “I already told you that I think you should. You got some experience today, and we have time to start really training towards this before we enter the next one.” His eyes shifted to Leia and then back to Rey, “But it’s up to you, kid. Tell me what you want to do?”

“Han!” Leia snapped, turning to glare at him.

Behind them, Holdo was shaking her head, smiling ruefully, “Oh, did I call this or did I call this?”

Ignoring them all, Han stepped forward, “You got nothing to prove, Rey. But this is your ride, it’s your call.”

Rey glanced down and took a breath, “I want to at least take a shot at this. I want to do the jump off.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Rey, you're in over your head.
> 
> I hope everyone enjoyed the dynamics between Holdo and Poe. They're quite fun to write.
> 
> Next chapter - jump off!
> 
> On that note, [here's a jump off from a big stakes grand prix back in 2015](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QyszG1INH1I)


End file.
